Cause and Effect
by Teenwitch
Summary: The pure and simple truth is rarely pure and never simple.
1. Default Chapter

**Cause and Effect: Chapter one**

Disclaimer: CSI belongs to CBS, Anthony E. Zuiker, blah blah blah.  
**Summary: **The pure and simple truth is rarely pure and never simple.

-

_San Francisco, 1994 _

Sara Sidle cursed as the flimsy heel slid off her foot, and paused on the front steps of the lecture hall to hastily readjust it. She was already late, and tardiness was not a quality she admired in others, let alone herself.

She flicked her short curly hair over one shoulder as she scurried up the remaining steps, and her heels clicked loudly on the floor as she stalked rapidly down the hall.

While she generally enjoyed attending seminars at the local universities to keep up with the latest forensic sessions, she had just had a particularly trying double shift at the San Francisco Crime Lab, and had forgotten to set her alarm the night before.

She barely had time to infuse herself with a generous amount of caffeine before skidding madly through the Berkeley car park to find an empty space. It would be just her luck now if the lecture hall was completely full, and the only seat was somewhere up the back, next to some bored undergraduate forced to attend the course for extra credit. She loathed people like that.

She slowed as she neared the entrance to the auditorium, and chewed her lower lip, pondering how to enter most discreetly.

Her slender fingers closed around the handle, and she couldn't conceal her wince when the door whined painfully as she craned it open.

The lecturer stopped mid speech, glancing over at her with a flash of irritation. Sara thought she had never been more embarrassed in her life. Several audience members also glanced back at her, and she cleared her throat nervously, frantically peering around for a vacant seat.

"Uh, sorry".

Spotting one a row from the back, she quickly slid between a pair of blonde freshmen, and slumped down, face flushed with mortification.

The lecturer lifted an eyebrow, easily turning back to his notes to continue the sentence she had interrupted.

"As I was saying, forensic entomology is normally broken down into three main areas: medicolegal, urban, and stored product pests. Medicolegal is forensic entomology. It involves looking at the carrion, or feeding insects that infest human remains, and then using them to determine things like time of death, blood splatter analysis or cause of death."

Sara studied him as he spoke, overtaken with an immense passion for the subject. She drew in a deep breath, carefully extracting her notebook from her backpack, attempting to make as minimal noise as possible, to scrawl down some annotations in the shorthand she had perfected in college.

She had difficulty gazing away from the stark blue intensity of the lecturer's gaze. She noticed one of the blondes sitting next to her held a pamphlet that had obviously been handed out at the beginning of the lecture, and she squinted slightly at the cover.

_Forensic Entomologist: Dr. Gilbert Grissom  
Las Vegas Crime Lab_

Gil Grissom. Entomology wasn't a field she was particularly interested in, but she was always willing to learn about the diverse scope of forensics.

She found herself instantly engrossed with the seminar, despite her earlier embarrassment. Gil Grissom was an engaging speaker. He had an unrestrained passion for his work that was difficult to ignore, and she could see at least the better part of the audience were equally interested.

He had to be in his late thirties at most, with earnest, charming blue eyes and dark, curly brown hair that was tousled slightly from his movements across the stage. He was attractive, that was for sure, and she wasn't the only one who had noticed, judging by the constant nudges and secretive whispers of the two blondes beside her.

Sara barely restrained herself from rolling her eyes. She felt like she was back in high school.

"Are there any questions?"

She realised her thoughts had drawn her away from the lecture, and she frowned at herself, slowly straightening in her seat. She was starting to wish she'd doubled her intake of caffeine before leaving her apartment. Zoning out kind of defeated the purpose of attending, when she was technically here of her own violation.

A short, redheaded man across the auditorium asked some innocuous question about the timeline process, and Grissom looked bored as he answered a few more, similar questions.

Despite the desire to avoid drawing any further attention to herself, Sara felt her arm lifting of its own accord.

"Don't you have trouble convincing a jury that insects can determine how a person died?"

Grissom's eyes darted over her, and she saw recognition in them immediately. She ignored his initial annoyance at her query – people underestimated her intelligence a lot.

"Entomology is a fairly unknown field. So yes, usually it is difficult to convince normal people of its accuracy", he answered politely.

She tilted an eyebrow, shifting her notebook slightly. Her curiosity pushed her on. "But it has been known to make mistakes, right?"

He nodded slowly, reluctantly. "In some cases, yes. Sometimes it's due to elements in the temperature or surrounding environment that might have been overlooked. But like all things, it depends on the ability of the investigator".

"So you would probably have to maintain some sort of temperature to keep the specimens in when you collect them?"

He nodded, obviously more impressed with her observations that he had been at first. Another hand went up across the audience and he directed his attention away from her.

Sara sank back in her chair slowly, gaze lingering over the entomologist with newfound respect. Usually professors got intimidated when she challenged their opinions or knowledge, but he had met her queries without wavering in the slightest. She swallowed, studying him a little longer. His gaze on hers had been surprisingly intense but unreadable, and she had been unable to tell if it was from irritation or curiosity. She frowned at herself slightly, shaking off the feeling when she realised the lecture was wrapping up.

Here she was, sliding off into her own little world again, when everyone was leaving. She was going to have to seriously up her coffee intake if she wanted to be able to focus at work tonight.

She sat for a moment, watching idly as some of the students started to pack up their belongings and leave the auditorium, with the general buzz of relieved conversation that usually followed a long academic discussion.

She sighed, sliding her book back into her bag, and slinging it over her shoulder. A small cluster had gathered around the front of the stage to speak to Grissom, and she clearly wasn't going to be able to question him any further.

She barely noticed the tall, slightly older gentleman in the corner, who had been watching the entire lecture with a small, wry smile of amusement.

She hesitated in the aisle a moment, firmly turning towards the double doors. Sure, she stayed behind at lectures plenty of times when the subject matter interested her enough, but why was she left with the sudden, overwhelming urge to stay behind this time?

She inwardly scoffed at herself, deciding she definitely needed more sleep.

Because there was no way Sara Sidle, who refused to let any boyfriend stand in the way of her burgeoning career, found Gil Grissom attractive.

_-_

_Las Vegas, 2005_

"Sara, can you hand me a bindle, please?"

Sara blinked; realising Grissom was speaking to her, and lifted her head to glance at him blankly. "Sorry, what?"

His blue eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, and he sighed with practiced impatience. It was the kind of sigh he used on Greg. Frequently. "Bindle. Please?"

"Oh, right. Sorry".

She paused in her collection to lean over her kit, and passed him the object in question. Their fingers brushed briefly, and Sara's eyes darted over his for a moment when she felt an involuntary tingle.

He quickly returned his attention to the young, female body on the bed, like he had barely noticed the sudden tension, and lowered the bindle to retrieve a fibre.

The young woman was sprawled facedown, her silky nightgown ripped slightly up the side. Her limbs were slung flaccidly over the edge of the bed, and the position looked unnatural, like whoever had killed her had just dumped her that way.

The cheap motel room reeked of stale cigarettes and alcohol, and red neon light glowed faintly through the thin gauzy curtains, glowing amber over the victims long brown hair. She looked nineteen, twenty at most, probably still in college.

David was hunched on the other side of the body, checking the liver temp and allowing the two CSI's to gather initial evidence on the bed, and he glanced up at the nightshift supervisor slowly.

"Time of death was approximately eleven o'clock this morning", he announced. "She's been here a while".

Grissom lifted his eyebrows, studying the girl thoughtfully as he straightened to his feet. "A young girl with expensive lingerie… what was she doing in this part of town?"

"Sounds a little hinky to me", Greg piped up as he strode into the room, hefting his big black kit in front of him.

Grissom glanced over at him; frown pulling at his older features. "You're late", he admonished irritably.

Greg lifted an eyebrow, glancing at Sara as if to say, 'So the boss is moody tonight, huh?'

"Yeah, there was a whole lot of traffic along Henderson. Out of my hands".

"Well, get your hands over to the bathroom and start processing".

Greg nodded mutely, obviously sensing when to be submissive. Sara sent him a commiserative smile as he passed, and he shot her a brief grin back.

"Grissom", Detective Vartan spoke up, striding over calmly from where he had been questioning the motel manager by the door. He gestured vaguely over his shoulder. "There's a guy outside who says this is his room".

Grissom lifted an impassive eyebrow, nodding his thanks. Sara watched him leave, sighing deeply. "Okay to look at the body now, David?"

The coroner nodded, offering her a small, sympathetic smile, almost like he had witnessed their previous exchange. Sara glanced away, ignoring the irritating sense of pity coming from him. She lifted her gloved fingers to the victim's face, noting a small bruise lining her cheek. She frowned slightly, shining her flashlight over her thoughtfully.

Grissom's gaze travelled the motel lot for a moment, until he spotted a slim, distinguished looking older man standing by the ice machine.

His silvery hair glowed crimson in the neon lights, and he turned with his hands clasped at the sound of Grissom's approach.

"Sir, I'm with the Las Vegas Crime Lab…"

He paused when the older, yet no less familiar features came into light, and stopped walking mid-step. He was genuinely shocked, and blinked at the other man momentarily, temporarily lost for words, which was an impressive feat for anyone to achieve of him.

"Professor Townsend", he murmured at last, not without a certain level of wariness. His blue eyes darkened slightly.

Alex Townsend's eyebrows lifted slowly, and he took a further step forward. "Dr. Grissom?" he responded slowly. "_Well_. I didn't expect to see you here. It's been what, a decade, at least? Still working for Las Vegas".

"And you're still seducing young students", Grissom said darkly.

Alex's mouth turned up sadly, dark eyes darting over the bustling motel room. "Yes, well. She wasn't a student, technically. I'm only here for a few months, running a workshop at UNLV. Though I must say, if I'd known you were still here, I would have arranged for you to be a guest speaker."

"I don't do seminars anymore, Alex", Grissom said curtly.

Alex sighed. "A loss to the forensic community, I'm sure".

"I presume you left her here this morning?"

Alex nodded slowly. His features were slightly wrinkled, but he had aged gracefully and barely looked his fifty-five years.

"Yes, we agreed to meet again tonight, but when I arrived… I left about ten o'clock. I had a lecture to teach. She said she was going to stay for a while because she had no classes today".

"Her name is?"

"Audrey Fraser. She's 21, a junior majoring in forensics. Or… she was."

Grissom pursed his lips, glancing over Alex caustically. "How long have you been in a relationship?"

Alex sighed. "I'd hardly call it a _relationship_, Gil. But… we started seeing each other about a week ago. It… progressed rather quickly".

He didn't seem terribly distressed by her death. But Grissom, unfortunately, knew Alex Townsend too well to find that suspicious.

"Hey Grissom, Detective Vartan thinks we might have a witness…"

The sudden, female voice made him tense noticeably, and Alex immediately caught onto it.

Sara trailed off as her gaze slid from her boss to Alex, and she instantly stopped, stiffening slightly. Grissom cursed her for emerging at that moment, and Alex's gaze was instantly drawn to her, surprise and amusement written all over his face as his mouth curved slowly into a wide, wry smile.

"Well. Isn't this a surprise? Sara".

-


	2. Cause and Effect 2

**Cause and Effect: Chapter two**

_San Francisco, 1994 _

Gil Grissom could barely contain a sigh of relief as the eager cluster of students finally dispersed around him. It wasn't their interest that bothered him; it was their blatant lack of interest that did. Most of them had asked him the most basic questions that he had covered thoroughly throughout the lecture, and repeating himself not once but several times grew rapidly tiresome.

He turned towards the muddle of notes he had scattered on the table below the stage, sorting through them in his own chaotic state of organisation.

He had been disappointed with the turnout for the beginning of this year's seminars. Generally a school with such a reputation as Berkeley offered an impressive range of intellect, but this time, it had, unfortunately, been lacking. He uttered a deep, long-suffering sigh, straightening his glasses absently on the tip of his nose.

"That doesn't sound like the sigh of a truly satisfied teacher".

Grissom lifted his head at the amused male voice, and a small, weary smile pulled at his features.

"Alex", he acknowledged good-naturedly. "I was wondering when you were going to show up".

Alex strode around Grissom's side, so he was leaning near the slide projector. He tilted his head at his younger colleague thoughtfully.

"Well, fear not. The lecture certainly wasn't different than any other year."

"I think I'll leave that as a compliment, thank you", Grissom said, turning back to his notes.

Alex smirked. "Come on, you know I enjoy them. So, how's Vegas? I hear you got a new boss, some old homicide captain. Bet the scientist in you is revolting at that".

Grissom lifted an eyebrow idly, lifting up his briefcase to stow away the last of his papers. "Actually, he's surprisingly open-minded."

"Still. Don't you think it's time you put in that application for supervisor?"

Grissom clasped shut his briefcase, lowering it to his side. He regarded the professor patiently. "I enjoy the work, Alex. I don't have any ambitions."

Alex chuckled lightly. "I wish I was like that. I'm just waiting for the day they make me chair of the Forensics Department."

Grissom smiled slightly, but in the back of his mind, he thought he knew why that recommendation hadn't come. Alex got too involved with his students. He was surprised the board had turned a blind eye for this long. He didn't fault the man for it, but he didn't approve of his activities, either. That was a line that shouldn't need to be crossed. Most of these women were adults, but they were also young and naïve, and easily impressionable.

Alex seemed oblivious to his musings, and straightened away from the stage, clasping his hands calmly. "Well, how about a drink? No offence, Gil, but you look like you could use one. Come on, I'll buy. We need a chance to catch up".

Grissom hesitated, eyeing the door doubtfully. He really wanted to review his notes for the following days' lecture, but a drink with Alex usually resulted in a few entertaining hours, and he was his best contact with the university's forensic community. He wasn't an overly social man, but he did enjoy the company of others occasionally. His time away from home was one of those occasions.

He shrugged indifferently. "Sure. Let me get my things back to my suite and I'll meet you at the usual place."

Alex nodded, satisfied with the arrangements, and Grissom left him for the car park.

The midafternoon sun temporarily blinded him, reminding him that the Californian sun was less harsh, but no less brilliant that the Nevada one, and he sighed, wishing he had remembered to bring his shades.

He paused mid-way to his car when he noticed a lone black Camry with the hood up a few parks over.

He hesitated, his career making it difficult for him to knowingly leave anyone in jeopardy. He stepped over, peering around the side of the car to examine the apparently injured party.

She was a young, pretty brunette, and it took him several moments to place her. He sighed inwardly when he did. She was the girl who was late to his seminar. And the only one to ask a vaguely intelligent question throughout the entire session.

"Need any help?"

Her eyes lifted slowly, and he was struck with an odd, not unpleasant sensation at their sudden guarded intensity. She swiped a strand of dark hair behind one ear, and recognition immediately filtered into her gaze. There was no denying she was attractive. She looked to be in her early twenties, with soft, fair features and dark brown hair that curled delicately around her face. She was tall and slender, and hovered over the front of the car with a certain level of confidence.

The most captivating thing about her was her eyes. They held his for several unnecessarily long moments, and he felt as if their dark pools were instantly becoming acquainted with the very depths of his soul.

She blinked, glancing away first, returning her attention to the engine she had thoughtfully been examining.

"I think I'm fine, thanks. My car's always breaking down, so I've just got to work out what's busted this time".

He slanted an eyebrow, doubtful despite himself. "You know how to fix it?"

She glanced at him, and he thought he saw a flash of irritation at his doubting of her abilities. "Yes. My brother used to help me with my car all the time".

He felt uncomfortable having offended her. "I'm sorry, it's just… I don't know many women who know their way around a car. I don't know many men who do, either", he added jokingly.

A small smile tugged at her lips, and she shrugged absently. "It's okay, Dr. Grissom".

He frowned slightly at the formal title. "Grissom's fine. I wasn't sure you recognised me".

"I enjoyed your seminar", she commented vaguely, lowering her hand somewhere underneath the hood.

He lifted an eyebrow, strangely warmed by the concept. "I think you might be alone on that one".

She glanced at him again, and a small, charming gap in her teeth showed when she grinned. "Okay, I have to admit, they probably weren't the most intellectual group. I come to these seminars a lot. It's really a lucky draw".

He watched her curiously, unwilling to leave her alone quite just yet. Young women in peril just came across too much in his line of work, and somehow he found himself shuddering at the thought of her becoming a statistic.

"Really? You don't go to school here?"

She twisted the cap of something in the engine. "I used to. I work at the San Francisco Crime Lab. I just like to keep up-to-date with the forensic news. My boss isn't really big on additional education on the clock, so it's all in my own free time".

He was impressed she had such a promising career, and still took time to further educate herself. "That's very practical of you".

She chuckled slightly. "Thanks. I think".

He frowned, studying her thoughtfully. "You know, I didn't actually catch your name".

She blinked, straightening slightly. "Oh! Sorry." She lifted out her hand as if she were about to extend it, then reconsidered when she realised it was covered in motor oil. "Uh, right. I'm, uh, Sara Sidle. It's nice to meet you".

Grissom couldn't help but smile at her sudden embarrassment. There was something refreshingly endearing about it. "It's nice to meet you too."

-

_Las Vegas, 2005_

"Sara".

Sara's frame tensed so visibly Alex would have to have been ignorant not to notice it, and she remained stock still, an obvious, clear distance maintained between her and the professor.

Grissom swallowed, insides clenching painfully in apprehension. She couldn't have picked a worse time if she had tried to.

Her eyes narrowed with a familiar, reassuring fire, and she forced herself to straighten rigidly.

"If you're here, this case suddenly makes much more sense", she spat distastefully.

Alex lifted an eyebrow, mildly amused by her bluntness. "How nice to see you too".

His voice was inexorably smooth, and he seemed completely unaffected by her obvious contempt. Sara sneered, folding her arms protectively over her midsection. "I don't think that could ever cover it".

She remained carefully at Grissom's side, and the line between them and the older professor was almost tangible it was so wide.

His sharp, dark brown eyes travelled between them languidly. The sounds of the other crime scene personnel were a distant buzz in the face of this sudden, unexpected confrontation. "Well. How interesting to see you both here", he observed casually, tone lingering over the words. "Together".

"Sara works for me", Grissom informed him through a tight jaw, gaze practically seething.

Alex nodded dryly, indicating that he did not believe them in the slightest. "Really? How nice. And I see you finally made that supervisor position".

Grissom licked his lips, remembering one of their previous conversations on that front. "Things change, Alex", he said coldly.

Alex's gaze was strangely distant. "They do indeed."

Slowly, they peeled away from Grissom to focus on Sara again, lingering over her in a way that made Grissom more than uncomfortable. "Well, Sara. The years have certainly done their favours on you. Don't you think, Gil?"

He turned pointedly to the nightshift supervisor. Sara pursed her lips, in no mood for his scorn. "I'm going to go keep an eye on Greg", she muttered, casting a brief, fleeting glance in Grissom's direction before stalking rapidly away.

Alex's unreadable gaze slowly watched her departure, before flitting over his old friend's again, annoyingly calm. "I always knew you had it bad for that girl, Gil", he said quietly.

Grissom stiffened, glaring at him acridly. "A detective will be over shortly to take your official statement", he spat blandly. "I'm sure you have at least _some_ idea of how this procedure works."

Alex remained where he was as Grissom started to firmly turn away. "Always running, aren't you, Grissom?"

Grissom paused at the pointed barb, eyes narrowing back at the older man with a cold intensity he had rarely shown. "I'm going to make two things clear to you, Alex. Do _not_ make any implications about my relationship with Sara again. And if we have the need to contact you regarding this case, we will do so. Do not come near me, and _do_ _not_ go anywhere near Sara".

Alex slanted an eyebrow slightly, expression unreadable. "If that's what you wish".

Grissom clenched his jaw, whirling back towards the crime scene, bones leaden with the sudden, overwhelming cold that came over them. The sense of devastating dread was unbearable, and some long-ago part of him broke free from its suppression, and feared unwillingly for what he knew was far from over.

-

Greg blinked as Sara stalked abruptly back into the room, Grissom not far behind her. Both of them withdrew into a tense, immensely pointed silence, and he briefly wondered if something had happened between the two of them out there.

David had just finished carting the body out to the coroner's van, and Greg had started to methodically examine the bedsheets for any signs of a struggle with an assailant. Darkly, Sara crouched down on the other side of the bed, eyes focused so fixedly on the surface he was sure she wasn't seeing anything at all.

He suppressed a deep sigh, inwardly wondering when she was going to get over whatever crush she had on him. He still couldn't figure out exactly how Grissom felt about her. Hell, he still couldn't tell if Grissom really liked _him_. But being one who had suffered from a strong, lengthy infatuation with the pretty brunette himself, he could certainly understand if Grissom held that particular viewpoint. He just didn't think it was good for her. The heartache he seemed to constantly put her through hardly seemed worth the trouble.

After about half-an-hour of combing the bed and surrounding areas, he reluctantly broke the silence to report their negative findings.

"There's nothing here, Grissom", he admitted, talking loudly so his boss could hear him from the other side of the room. "Whoever did this was a pretty meticulous cleaner".

Sara winced, silently nodding her agreement. He smiled vaguely, relived to see she was backing him up on his statement.

It was funny, when he had originally started to train as a CSI; he had initially assumed Grissom would be his prime mentor. Warrick, Nick and Sara all still constantly vied for his attention, yet when he actually thought about it, he much preferred Sara's approach to teaching him. It might have had something to do with the fact that Sara was also his friend, while Grissom was and would always be his superior.

Grissom sighed deeply, lowering his collection bindle grudgingly to his side. "Okay. You two go back to the lab", he said tiredly. "Sara, go see Doc Robbins when he's ready to autopsy, and ask him to collect an SAE kit. Greg, take everything we have and start to get it processed."

The two of them exchange an uncertain glance, neither of them quite willing to ask Grissom what he would be doing.

At last, Greg straightened to his feet, breaking whatever weird, pointed _not_-staring at each other Grissom and Sara had going on, and started hefting his kit towards the door. After a slight pause, Sara gathered hers and began to follow him.

Mutely, Sara handed him the keys, and Greg glanced at her disbelievingly as she climbed passively into the passenger side. Sara never let him drive. Ever. In fact, he was pretty sure she had made it some sort of rule between them.

He glanced at her askance as he climbed behind the wheel, and when he sensed no explanation was forthcoming, shrugged, and turned on the ignition.

They rode in silence until he paused at a red light, and he spared a fleeting glance at her, dim streetlights casting her in a muted, yellow glow. "You all right?"

She blinked, shifting slightly from her self-imposed mood. "What? Oh, sure. Why?"

Greg resisted rolling his eyes, keeping his gaze planted on the taillights of the car in front of them instead of meeting her probing stare. He was the first to admit Sara Sidle could be one pretty damn intimidating woman when challenged.

"Well, you're, uh, moody. And the boss is pretty damn moody. Somehow methinks the two things are related."

Sara sighed tiredly. "Well, they're not. God, can't I just be in a bad mood, without someone questioning me about it?"

"Sure. Except you were in a fine mood earlier. It wasn't until you went outside you started to get crabby."

"Greg, just… just leave it, okay? It's nothing for you to worry about".

He eyed her doubtfully, but the traffic began to move, and he couldn't force the topic any further. By the time they reached the lab, Sara was already halfway out the door, and he knew that whatever chance he had of her confiding in him, he had probably just blown it.

He sighed deeply, gathering together the few evidence bags they had collected, and starting reluctantly towards trace. Alienating Sara and now a night of Hodges? Yeah, this was just his best day ever.

-


	3. Cause and Effect 3

**Cause and Effect: Chapter three**

"Hey Gil".

Grissom's head snapped up as Catherine Willows strode leisurely into his office, slanting a perfectly plucked eyebrow at his sudden jolt.

"Jumpy, huh?"

He sighed deeply, in no mood for his old friends' company. She was far too perceptive when he least wanted her to be, and it wouldn't take much for her to figure out that something was bothering him.

"Is there something in particular you wanted, Catherine?"

She furrowed her brows slightly at the curtness of his tone, and he sunk back in his leather chair resignedly, conceding that snapping probably wasn't the most effective way to get rid of her.

As expected, Catherine took this as her cue to slide casually into the opposite chair, crossing her legs delicately at the knee. "Ah, so Greg steering away from here wasn't accidental", she noted casually. "What's the matter? Bad case?"

He ran a hand over his beard wearily. "No, I just have a lot of work to catch up on".

Her steel blue eyes drifted pointedly down to the small mound of paperwork on the corner of his desk. "Doesn't look like much to me."

"Again, are you going to criticise my administrative skills or is there a reason you decided to visit?"

Catherine pursed her lips, lifting a piece of invisible lint off the arm of her suit jacket to use as an excuse to carefully avoid any eye contact. "All right. I've decided to take some leave. Just a few weeks, a month, maybe. I'm going to take Lindsey away. I want to distance her from Vegas for a while."

Grissom slated an eyebrow. "Doesn't she have school?"

Catherine made a sigh of irritation at his apparent ignorance. "Spring break is coming up, Grissom".

"Right. And… you have the money for this sort of vacation?"

Catherine glanced away, shrugging slightly. "There's still… enough left over from Sam's check", she admitted evenly.

Grissom sighed, in no mood to sound his disapproval over that subject. He folded his palms against the base of his chin, studying her impatiently.

"And why are you telling me this, Catherine?"

She sighed deeply, flicking her blonde hair over her shoulder. "I spoke to Ecklie this afternoon. My… shift's going to be a bit shorthanded. He suggested transferring someone… from graveyard".

Grissom straightened sharply, eyes narrowing disbelievingly. "I'm only working with three people as it is, Catherine!" he exclaimed angrily.

She frowned defensively. "I _know_, okay? Don't you think I thought about that? It wasn't my decision. Apparently we're having budget cuts and Ecklie can't afford to bring in a temp. I told him I would discuss it with you but he already made a suggestion".

Grissom pressed his lips together in a tight, firm line, knowing he wasn't going to like this. "And who is he considering?"

Catherine bit her lip. "Sara", she admitted reluctantly.

Grissom scowled irritably, his whole expression darkening. "Why Sara?"

Catherine hesitated. "She would technically be taking over my position as swing supervisor. I originally suggested Warrick, but Ecklie thought it should be someone from another shift."

Grissom frowned. "Well, why not Sofia? She's trained as a supervisor."

Catherine shrugged. "I think he's still punishing her for not having his back with the team separation."

"Well, Sara's hardly his favourite person either, Catherine".

"He said Sara could use the experience. It could give her a chance to prove herself, Gil".

He eyed her suspiciously. "A few weeks ago he wanted to fire her. Somehow I doubt he's doing this for the benefit of her career."

Catherine looked down. "Look, I know you don't want to be separated from the last of the team. But am I the only one who remembers the promotion last year? I'm not the only one in this lab who's ambitious. If Ecklie's waiting for Sara to screw up, at least you could have faith in the fact that she won't. I'm sure she can do it."

"I don't doubt that she could. I just don't have any faith in Ecklie's intentions."

"Grissom, it's only temporary. And nothing's been decided yet. You have a few weeks to think about it, at least. What is up with you? If this were one of the boys you would probably be happy for them."

Grissom heaved a heavy sigh. "It's nothing. I'm just tired of Ecklie using my people to manipulate me."

Catherine cocked an eyebrow doubtfully. "You were brooding about something before I came in here. Want to tell me what's going on?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose, removing his glasses wearily as he debated how much to actually tell her. "Do you remember Alex Townsend?" he asked, at last.

Catherine furrowed her brow, struggling to place him in her memory. "Uh, some old… colleague of yours, right? From California?"

"Right. He… might be the suspect in our latest murder."

She bit her lip sympathetically. "Have you considered removing yourself from the case?"

Grissom frowned slightly. "We haven't spoken in over ten years. It's not exactly a conflict of interest".

Catherine leant back in her chair nonchalantly. "Well, I'm not one to judge, but… if it's bothering you it must matter somehow".

Grissom frowned, eyeing her over the desk uneasily.

A knock rapped quietly at the door, and Sara's slender form slid tentatively inside. She had a look on her face that suggested going into his office was about the last thing she wanted to do, and he guessed she had tossed Greg for the honour.

"Uh, sorry to interrupt… but Doc Robbins just completed his autopsy on our motel vic."

Catherine's hands slid over the arms of her chair as she pulled herself languorously to her feet. "It's fine. We're about done here, anyway".

She gave Sara a brief smile as she left, and Sara returned it weakly, obviously unconvinced things were right between them.

Catherine closed the door behind her, and Grissom was sure it was intentional, and felt immediately closed in with the younger brunette. He shook the feeling off, gesturing to the file in her hand with the tip of his pen, all business. "What have you got?"

She glanced down, though he was sure she had the contents completely memorised. "Cause of death was blunt force trauma to the back of the head. She had bruisings on her cheek and wrists, so she struggled with her attacker." She hesitated slightly. "She was also raped."

Grissom glanced down, closing his eyes briefly. He didn't want to believe Alex was capable of that kind of violence, but… he couldn't ignore the niggling feeling in him that said it was possible.

Sara stood awkwardly where she was, eyes focused distractedly on some space on his desk and he knew she too, was considering it. He cleared his throat resolutely. "Uh, were there any traces of semen?"

She glanced up, slowly shaking her head. "No, uh, Doc Robbins thinks he probably used a condom. He either wasn't a first time offender or…"

"He knows something about forensics", Grissom finished gruffly.

Sara shifted uncomfortably. "Or he was just protecting himself", she suggested hesitantly, obviously not believing it herself.

Grissom sighed, eyes focusing distractedly on his pen as he tapped it dimly against his papers. "Right".

He could feel Sara's gaze on him for a long, drawn-out moment, until she slowly circled around the vacant chair and lowered herself into it.

"Are we going to talk about what happened back there?" she asked, softly.

Grissom's head lifted up, and his eyes bored into hers with a sudden darkness. He had dared to hope she wouldn't broach this. He should have known better. "No".

She worked her jaw irritably at the abruptness of his reply, eyes narrowing unrelentingly. "Grissom, we… we can't just ignore this. If he's a suspect—"

"We don't have sufficient evidence to prove he is one. And until we do, we have no reason to do anything".

She stared at him disbelievingly. "I can't believe you. You're just going to pretend like none of this ever happened, aren't you?"

"I don't see any reason to rehash the past, Sara", he muttered, looking away.

Sara scoffed, sinking back in her chair. "Yeah. What a surprise".

Silence descended over the room, and Grissom turned his head back down to his paperwork, an obvious, curt sign of dismissal. Sara remained sitting firmly where she was, watching him quietly.

She knew that getting him to open up about Alex Townsend was going to be an impossible task. It was a wound she was sure Grissom had never truly gotten over, and it was something they had never discussed since she came to work for him in Vegas. Not that they had ever really broached any remotely personal topic for years, and they certainly never discussed their lives before Vegas.

She was still fairly certain that to this day, none of the others, not even Catherine, had the slightest inkling as to how their knew each other.

Privacy was something they both valued, but Sara couldn't help but wonder if he concealed these things out of courtesy, or because he was ashamed.

He looked deeply immersed in whatever material he was reading, but Sara knew him well enough to know he was too distracted by her presence.

"Do you think he did it?" she asked, after a while.

She saw a muscle in Grissom's countenance twitch, but his gaze refused to leave the paper at her question. Another long, pregnant pause filled the room, and she wondered if he was even going to acknowledge that she had spoken at all.

"We don't have enough evidence to assert that yet", he responded carefully at last.

Sara pursed her lips, leaning back in her chair tersely. She continued to stare at him, until he was forced to reluctantly lift his eyes to meet her dark, intense stare.

"I know", she said softly, attempting to convey to him that she understood how difficult this was for him to examine. "But do you?"

Grissom's cool blue eyes remained fixed on hers slowly, and she forced herself to breathe in again when he finally glanced away.

"I don't know", he admitted hollowly, a raw, unusual honesty colouring his tone.

She nodded, satisfied with his reply, and she looked away too. It was a topic both of them had thought they would never have to deal with, and certainly not after this long.

Sara shook her head ironically. The past always reared up, in one form or another. She just didn't know if she was going to have a passenger on the ride, or if she was facing this one alone.

_San Francisco, 1994_

"So. How's life in Sin City treating you?"

Grissom's eyes drifted up from the layer of condensation on the table to glance in Alex's direction.

The older man's eyes glittered with familiar amusement as they danced around the warm, typical Californian bar, a popular attraction for university students and staff alike.

His palms slid over the smooth surface of the table, and he stared at Grissom expectantly, though the entomologist suspected he had more than a little of his attention focused on the pair of female students who had just wandered amiably into the establishment.

Grissom concealed a disapproving sigh, inwardly wondering when Alex was going to tire of such behaviour. Probably not soon. He was a lively, self-professed bachelor and Grissom had no doubt he would most likely stay that way.

"Well, Gil? Still not thinking of relocating back to good old LA?"

Grissom smiled slightly, shaking his head leisurely. "No. I think LA and I have definitely outgrown each other".

Alex smiled, nodding slowly. "I never would have pegged you for a Vegas type, Gil."

"It has the biggest crime rate in North America, Alex", Grissom informed him tolerantly.

Alex grinned in enjoyment, drawing a long swig from his beer. "Well, in relation to you, that makes a large amount of sense. Whereas to anyone else, that would be an instant repellent."

Grissom shrugged indifferently, taking a sip from his own drink. He decided to change the subject.

"You saw the whole seminar?"

Alex nodded, looking thoughtful. "You got quite the turnout this year."

"Not exactly the kind I was hoping for".

He shrugged loosely. "There's a lull in forensics majors, Gil. We can't help that. Not many people wake up one day and say, 'hey, I think I want to look at dead people all day.'"

Grissom shot him an unforgiving frown. "I never thought I'd hear _you_ demean our careers like that, Alex".

Alex rolled his eyes, gesturing his hand impatiently. "I'm just being realistic, Gil. Most normal people see us as ghouls of some sort. And it's your career, not mine. I'm just a college professor".

Grissom frowned deeply, considering. He'd never thought of his job that way, or himself in that perception. It was a profession, not an aberration.

Silence descended over the table briefly, the low buzz of the bar acting as gentle background noise, and Grissom straightened thoughtfully.

"You know, that's not entirely true", he countered at last, after another casual sip of his beverage. "I met a student today who has a genuine interest in the field. In fact, she works in forensics".

He cast his thought back to the pretty brunette he had met earlier that day. He hadn't meant to share his meeting with Sara to Alex. For some reason, he had wanted to keep it to himself. But he wanted to prove a point to Alex, and that usually meant he didn't think about what he was saying first.

Alex apparently caught onto his pause, and eyed him over slyly. "Her, huh?"

Grissom resisted the urge to narrow his eyes in irritation. Alex's immediate assumption that any meeting with a woman was automatically sexual grated on his nerves. For some reason, it bothered him to discuss Sara that way.

Alex must have recognised his annoyance, and lifted an eyebrow vaguely, an evident sign of dismissal. "Well, at least you're getting through to someone".

Grissom shot him a weary look. Alex leant back in his side of the booth.

"So, how's your team?" he asked abruptly. "And that young lady friend of yours, what's her name?"

"Catherine", Grissom supplied, relaxing slightly at the mention of his friend. Catherine was a safe topic. "She's fine. She's already applying for her CSI level 3 qualification."

Alex smiled at his friend's enthusiasm. "That's nice". He considered Grissom thoughtfully. "You know, it's a shame she's married", he said casually.

Grissom rolled his eyes. "Alex, Catherine is my friend. I resent any other implication."

Alex held up his hands. "All right. Still, you do need a woman in your life. How often do you date, Gil?"

Grissom inwardly sighed. Alex usually brought this up around his second drink. "Enough", he said shortly.

Alex smiled, obviously sensing Grissom's firm reluctance to travel down that route of conversation.

"Well, who's for a refill, hmm?" he said cheerfully, rising to his feet as if there was no sign of an impending disagreement.

Grissom shook his head. "None for me, thanks", he turned down politely. "I have to drive to my hotel".

"Fair enough. I'll be back".

Grissom leant back in his seat, watching as Alex smoothly made his way across to the bar. Seated on two barstools nearby were the blonde pair who had walked in earlier, and Alex turned to them with an easy, charming smile, effortlessly striking up a conversation.

Grissom watched them for a few moments, before turning to his own thoughts abstractedly.

He really did have to prepare for tomorrow's lecture. He did know most of the material by heart, but it didn't hurt to have that extra assurance, he told himself.

He rested his chin vaguely in his thumb, and his thoughts involuntarily drifted back to the young criminalist he had met that afternoon. Sara Sidle.

He inwardly scoffed at Alex's initial assessment. He was hardly going to take any advice from the professor. He respected his opinion as a colleague, but in a personal light he generally made decisions that were less than upstanding. _Or ethical,_ he thought vaguely, glancing idly over at his friend.

Still, he was oddly struck by Sara. She had left an impression on him that he couldn't quite decipher. He was certainly impressed by her intelligence. It was unusual to find someone her age so mature and easy to talk to. But there was something else about her that he found… entrancing, for lack of a better word. Yes, entrancing was actually very appropriate.

After a few minutes, Alex returned, full beer in hand. He smiled at Grissom sanguinely.

"Sorry! Took a bit longer than expected".

_I'll bet_, Grissom thought inwardly. He only nodded.

"Well, I should head off soon. I have some work to do before tomorrow."

Alex nodded, seemingly distracted. "Don't stay on my account".

Grissom hesitated, and made a few more minutes small talk before saying goodbye and taking his leave. He swept his jacket over his arm, glancing back over his shoulder nonchalantly as he left.

One of the blonde girls had taken up his vacant seat across from Alex, and they were both bent forward, engaged in silent, flirty conversation.

Grissom forced himself to continue on his way, sighing deeply. He was unable to prevent a faint, inkling of unease as it settled in his gut and he attempted to ignore it.


	4. Cause and Effect 4

**A.N. **I'm going to try and get into more of the background after this.

Thanks everyone for the excellent feedback. I really appreciate. Please let me know what you think of this chapter, because I'm not entirely happy with this story right now, though I'm not sure exactly why.

**Cause and Effect: Chapter four**

_Las Vegas, 2005_

"So do you want the good news or the bad news?"

Sara glared witheringly at Greg across the table, irritation and immense sleep deprivation more than evident in her posture. "You know, we got you out of DNA for a reason, Greg. Spit it out".

He lifted his brow, sensing the necessity to quickly appease her. "Okay, okay. Gee, crabby, much? The good news is that Hodges can trace the hairs we found on the bed back to one male suspect, Alex Townsend. The bad news is-"

"-He slept there the night before", Sara finished tetchily. "So that doesn't prove anything".

He nodded, anxiously chewing on his lower lip. They were stumped on this case and Grissom and Sara were taking it unusually hard. He knew they resented letting any case go cold, but their fixation on this one in particular was… well, weird.

He cleared his throat, clearing away the crime scene photographs spread out in front of him. "There's one thing that's off to me", he admitted, fingering the edge of one photo absently as he scrunched his brow. "Our victim has multiple bruises and abrasions, suggesting she fought with the guy. But why aren't there any epitheliales or blood under her fingernails?"

Sara's head slowly lifted, and she fixed him a long strange look that started to make him feel uncomfortable with its intensity.

"What?" he yipped defensively.

She closed her eyes. "He cleaned under her fingernails", she muttered slowly, clenching her jaw at the realization.

Greg hesitated. "Okay", he said carefully. "So what does that mean? He knows that we can trace him that way. He knows a little about forensics. We've dealt with killers like that before, right?"

She glanced at him sharply, clutching the edge of the table so tightly her knuckles turned white under the pressure. "Right", she echoed hastily. "But it makes it ten times harder for us to trace him".

Greg glanced at her askance, biting his lip as he debated within himself whether or not to ask her something else. For some reason, he got the feeling it was going to upset her. "Um, what about… Alex Townsend?" he prompted tentatively. "He's a forensics professor, right? Doesn't this just make him a more viable suspect?"

Sara pursed her lips in a hard-pressed line. "Of course it does", she snapped impatiently. "But he knows the police would come straight to him. He was in that room with her all night".

"Maybe that's what he was counting on", Greg said softly. "That we would assume that was why and he would get away with it".

Sara's eyes darkened uncharacteristically and she glared at him. "Nothing is that easy, Greg. I thought you would have learnt that by now".

He frowned at her disbelievingly, fed up with her odd behaviour. She had never used her seniority to insult him before, and he resented being offended just because she was in some pissy mood.

"And I can't believe I have to tell you that if we have a suspect, we run with it", he snapped edgily. "I'm not assuming anything, Sara. You're just telling me there's no way he did it, without giving me an explanation behind it. You really think I haven't noticed you have some personal investment in this case? What the hell is your _problem_?"

"Do I need to break up something in here?" a cold, male voice interrupted brusquely.

Greg whipped around, heart hammering unsteadily in his chest, as Grissom stared back at them in the doorway, blue eyes narrowed dangerously. Grissom could be one scary guy when he was defending Sara.

Greg cleared his throat, feeling his palms sweat profusely. Sara had fallen quiet, glancing steadily at some unseen spot on the floor, and he wiped his hands on his lab coat, clenching his jaw forcefully.

"No", he said tightly, unwilling to face down the boss. "Nothing".

Grissom lifted a terse eyebrow, nodding slowly. "Good. Jacqui's finished with the prints we pulled from the nightstand. I want to know if any of them are probative."

Greg clenched his nails against his skin as he stuffed his balled up fists into his pockets. "Fine", he said abruptly, knowing a cue when he got one.

He stalked swiftly past them, heading towards the print lab.

If Grissom and Sara seriously thought the rest of them hadn't realised there was something going on by now, they really weren't the crack investigators he thought they were.

The stiffness in Sara's stance didn't diminish after Greg angrily left the room, and she reluctantly lifted her gaze to meet Grissom's, unconsciously folding her arms tightly across her midsection, grateful the table acted as a tangible barrier between them.

"Do I need to know what that was about?" he asked slowly, eyeing her warily.

She bristled at his irritation, wondering what the hell he had to possibly be angry about. "No", she snapped briskly.

As soon as she had yelled at Greg, she had immediately regretted it. At times it felt like he was her only ally on the graveshift, and she valued the friendship he offered her. She didn't want to loose it.

She was letting this case affect her too personally. She knew it, and Greg had bluntly pointed it out. He was right. She was invested in this. She thought she had forgotten about all that happened back in San Francisco, but clearly she was wrong.

"It's just been a tough shift, that's all", she muttered, glancing away again and deflating noticeably.

She could feel Grissom's eyes on her, and he paused in the doorway, watching her uncertainly. "Sara… maybe you should consider removing yourself from this case", he uttered slowly.

Her eyes darted up at him, and he immediately knew it had been a mistake.

"A day ago you were telling me not to rehash the past", she said angrily. "And now you're telling me to get off the _case_?"

"Whether or not you want to admit it, it's obviously affecting you…"

"I am not listening to this", Sara said flatly. "If you can stay on the case, then so can I, Grissom".

He stared at her, and she stared right back, a challenging, unflinching glare that reminded him of the old fire she had possessed, and that had somehow become snuffed slowly over the years. He swallowed, realising he hadn't even noticed its absence until now.

"Okay", he said slowly, lowering his voice unconsciously, in the smooth, velvety tone he used to soothe her. "I have to interview a few of Al—Townsend's colleagues at the UNLV campus. Do you want to come?"

She stared back at him a moment, and in that single moment he wished he could somehow protect her from this, prevent her from immersing herself in something that had the ability to destroy her.

At last, she nodded. "Sure".

It was complete and utter déjà vu.

Sara glanced sideways at Grissom as they shifted gradually through the clusters of students roving the auditorium, and she knew he was thinking it too.

She found her eyes seeking out their individual faces, cheerful, blissful youths unaware of the multitude of dangers that lurked around them. She sighed deeply, manoeuvring around a young pimply guy who scanned her over briefly; giving her what she was sure was intended to be an alluring smile.

She rolled her eyes, smirking slightly, and followed Grissom down the aisle towards the front of the room.

The audience seats were positioned on a downward slope, and the stage was a small, lowered structure at its base. A modern electronic projector had been positioned from the ceiling, and a blank, white screen overhung the rear wall of the stage.

According to the sign posted out the front, the special forensics workshop was being held over several more weeks, and today's schedule included various guest lecturers.

Alex Townsend was the head of the workshop, and three other university staff members aided under him.

Sara couldn't help but gaze around for the professor, who appeared to be absent. If there were guest speakers scheduled for the day, she supposed there was no reason for him to be there.

Hovering over the timber podium was an old, balding man with a woollen, knitted vest and dark rimmed glasses hanging from a thread around his neck, jiggling slightly when he moved. He was nervously studying an assortment of notes, absently wiping his hands on his slacks every few seconds.

Grissom glanced back at Sara as he reached the base of the small stage, and she couldn't resist the small smile that pulled at the corner of her lips.

To her surprise, he offered an absent, reminiscent smile in return, and she felt saddened when she realised what had changed between them since those days.

"Excuse me, are you Fred Turpin?"

The man glanced up, smiling nervously when he noted the LVPD IDs around their necks. "Y-yes. What can I do for you?"

"I'm Sara Sidle. This is Gil Grissom. We're from the Las Vegas Crime Lab. We want to ask you a few questions about Audrey Fraser", Sara said gently. She immediately felt sorry for him.

He frowned anxiously. "Audrey? She's… a student of mine. Well, she attends the workshop. Has… has something happened to her?"

Sara sighed grimly. "I'm sorry to have to tell you… that Audrey was found dead last night. We believe she was murdered".

Turpin lowered his hands to his sides, mouth opening slightly in surprise. "Oh, I'm… I'm very sorry to hear that. Do you have… any idea who might be… responsible?"

"That's what we're trying to find out, Mr. Turpin", Grissom spoke up quietly.

He shook his head, licking his lips disbelievingly. "Well, you expect things like this to happen in a city like this. But… Audrey was such a promising student…"

"Is she from Las Vegas, Mr. Turpin?" Sara asked carefully.

He sighed. "No, she transferred from NYU a year ago. She… well, she knew Las Vegas has the best crime lab in the country. Second only to Quantico, obviously." He cleared his throat, nervously. "A-As I'm sure you would know".

Sara smiled gently. "She sounds like she was very dedicated."

"Oh yes, she was", he agreed sadly.

"Did she have any enemies here, Mr. Turpin?" Grissom spoke up. "Perhaps any other students who were envious of her intelligence…"

Turpin shook his head. "Oh no. Not at all. She was quite popular. Very well liked by everyone at the workshop. No, I'm sure she had no enemies."

Sara bit her lip, fingering her sunglasses in her left hand as she glanced up at the jittery lecturer. "Mr. Turpin… were you aware that Audrey was in an intimate relationship with Alex Townsend?"

Turpin's Adam's apple bobbed unsteadily, and his eyes darted over both of them miserably. At last, he sighed. "It was d-difficult not to know. Professor Townsend isn't exactly… d-discrete", he admitted reluctantly.

Sara glanced down, sighing deeply.

"You aren't going to mention this to him, a-are you?" Turpin asked anxiously. "He is technically the head of this workshop and he has a lot of sway in the department. He… he can make life very difficult for me".

Grissom and Sara exchanged a glance, and Sara slowly shook her head, smiling at him with a reassuring compassion. "No. We won't mention it. So you didn't report this to anyone?"

He shook his head. "Like I said, he has a lot of influence. Nobody… who values their career… w-would aggravate Alex Townsend."

Grissom thanked him, and he nodded earnestly, quickly bowing his head to his notes again.

Sara and Grissom retreated to a quiet corner in the hall running behind the stage, glancing at each other uneasily.

"If Audrey wanted to break it off… she could have threatened to tell someone about their affair", Sara said slowly. "It would have ruined his reputation."

Grissom tightened his lips grimly. "Would he kill to prevent that?"

Sara closed her eyes, leaning wearily back against the wall. "He's gained a lot of power since we last saw him", she mused unhappily.

Grissom scowled dangerously. "And I'm sure he's getting away with much more than before".

She swallowed, glancing at him uncertainly. "Grissom, um… you know that if we have to accuse him… He could ruin our careers."

He glanced at her impassively, quickly glancing away again. "I know."

She nodded, looking down as well. "There's one thing that's holding me back from this. Alex is always very… involved with women. But he's never been violent with any of them".

Grissom glanced at her again. "You're saying he isn't capable of it?" he asked pointedly. He shook his head. "Look… there's a possibility he didn't do this. But if he did… we have to be prepared for it. And we can't… bias our investigation".

Her dark eyes flittered up to him, and she realised he had heard her previous argument with Greg. She ran a hand over her eyes. "This just seems too familiar, doesn't it?" she admitted softly.

Grissom sighed, looking distant. "Yeah", he muttered, after a while. "You could say that".

_San Francisco, 1994_

The sunlight instantly blinded her as Sara emerged from the San Francisco Crime Lab, and she indolently lowered her sunglasses over her eyes, instantly diffusing the harsh light. She slung her shoulder bag over her midsection, feeling her notebook press reassuringly into her side as started across the moderately congested parking lot.

She didn't have time to go home before the seminar started, and she found it unfortunate that she had been unable to attend the morning workshop. But her day off had been yesterday, and it wasn't often that she requested additional days off as well.

_Please. You don't even call in sick. Just admit the real reason you're suddenly so tempted to play hookey._

She scoffed at the inner, nagging voice, pointedly ignoring it as she scanned the lot for her car.

_You can memorise all the elements of the periodic table and you can't even remember where you park your car._

She slid between an old Ford and a newer model Merc – the sleek car her fellow CSI Dale Forrester frequently bragged about – and was oh so tempted to put a dint in the paint job just to allow herself one simple day of the week she wasn't incessantly reminded that he made more money than she did.

Dale had just achieved his CSI Level 3 certificate, and never relented in holding it over her head, when technically she had progressed rapidly to her own CSI level 2 status in the short year and a half she had been there, while he had taken the last seven years to get as far as he had.

She had paused fleetingly beside the vehicle, studying it pensively, when a low, male voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Considering a new car?"

She blinked, spinning abruptly in embarrassment, and her heart contracted unexpectedly at the familiar face that greeted her.

"Dr. Grissom."

He had his head tilted slightly to ward away the sun, and stood casually at the rear of the car, piercing blue eyes studying her with a hint of amusement. She swallowed, wondering at her inner reaction to the man.

_What the hell, Sidle…_

"Uh, no, actually I was considering an act of vandalism, but uh, you can just pretend you didn't hear about my criminal tendencies."

A small smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth, and she liked knowing that she had the ability to make him amused.

"I told you to call me Grissom, Sara", he reminded her patiently.

She blinked again, incomprehensively, and was infinitely thankful her sunglasses concealed her eyes, which were suddenly so fixated on betraying the fact that she did indeed have a brain.

"Right. Sorry." She glanced up at him curiously, suddenly remembering where they were. "So what brings you to the San Francisco Crime Lab?"

"Catching up with old acquaintances", he admitted ambiguously.

She tilted an eyebrow curiously, realising she must have missed him when she was in the lab. "Really? Anyone I would know?"

He smiled slightly. She wondered how old he was. He had a very young, earnest face, but she thought he was probably in his mid thirties, or a little older. "You should. He's your boss".

Her eyebrows rose to her hairline, and she inwardly cast her mid back to the day before, wondering if in their previous conversation she had uttered any offences against the man.

"You didn't mention… that you knew Chris", she said cautiously.

He eyed her in dry amusement. "I wouldn't worry. You didn't say anything incredibly unflattering. And I wouldn't have repeated it if you did."

She lifted a hand to the edge of her shades, sliding them off so she could regard him more closely. It was an unconscious gesture, but she felt like she was lowering some kind of defensive wall in the process, and her self-preservation instincts demanded to know what she was doing.

"Well, that's… probably good to know. We uh, tend to disagree a lot".

_Understatement of the century._

If there was one thing Sara couldn't tolerate, it was a chauvinistic male. Chris Vanstone fit that title nicely. In her male-dominated line of work, it wasn't something she appreciated dealing with on a daily basis. But on her first day she had made her opinion of him more than clear, and ever since he had held a measure of respect for her, and they unanimously tolerated each other around other people.

It wasn't her fault if she had an occasional slip of the tongue.

Grissom smiled slightly, and she thought she saw a measure of unspoken sympathy in his gaze.

"Did you have any trouble getting your car home?"

She shook her head. "No. It was fine. Thanks for your help though".

"I didn't really do anything".

"It's the thought that counts, right? At least you stopped. Most people wouldn't have even bothered".

"It's a hazard of my job, I'm afraid", he said, smiling slightly. "Don't leave young women in peril".

An eyebrow shot up. "I was hardly in peril, you know".

"Well, it looked like it at the time".

She narrowed her eyes slightly, until she realised he was just teasing her.

"Well, I really should get to the university. The seminar can't exactly start without me".

Sara nodded slightly. "Right. I… should get going too".

"Perhaps I'll see you later then".

She couldn't resist the smile the lit up her pretty features, and he instantly smiled in return.

"Yeah. Maybe you will".


	5. Cause and Effect 5

**Cause and Effect: Chapter five**

_San Francisco, 1994_

"Witnesses are unreliable, and suspects can change their accounts at any given time. The one, the only thing a criminalist can truly rely on, is the evidence."

Sara sat at the back of the auditorium, permanently captivated by the earnest, exuberant speaker on stage. She was also intrigued by the passion he professed for his vocation. He considered forensics a calling, but unlike her, it wasn't an intent need for justice or to rectify some unfulfilled inner turmoil. It was a calling for Grissom because he loved it. She realised she had never once considered her career in that light, had never had that clarity, and found her new perspective oddly enlightening.

The lecture entered a brief, five-minute respite, and Sara leant back in her chair, eyes idly scanning the sudden movement of the crowd as people got up to get a drink, or speak to others across the room, swept up in a congested flow of anonymous faces.

"He's quite a compelling speaker, don't you think?"

She glanced around in surprise, momentarily confused about whether someone was speaking to her or not, eyes scrutinizing the shadowy rear of the lecture hall to locate the source of the voice.

The speaker was a tall, charming man, with dark, striking features and thick, dark brown hair. He leant casually against the wall beside the exit, and his eyes levelled with hers, shrewdly observing her. He exceeded an air of modest confidence, and smiled at her kindly, features crinkling just enough so that she could estimate his age to be around his early forties.

She frowned slightly, nodding in response when she realised he had indeed, addressed her. "Yeah, ah, he is", she agreed hesitantly.

The chairs beside her along the aisle were empty, and he leaned forward slightly, obviously intrigued by her opinion. "Have you attended all the previous lectures?"

Sara nodded. "Almost all of them so far. They're… interesting. Certainly more diverse than the seminars normally held here".

His mouth twitched slightly. "I agree. I make it a point to attend Dr. Grissom's lectures every year. He usually gets quite a following."

She shifted to glance at him, suddenly glad to share her enthusiasm on the subject with someone equally as interested. "What's different this year?" she asked, surprised.

He shrugged. "Oh, fewer students are interested in criminalistics. The forensics department is lacking in funds. A large number of things".

He chuckled at her doubtful expression, tilting his head in mild amusement. "Perhaps I should introduce myself. Alex Townsend. I'm a professor in the forensics department."

"Oh", she blinked, embarrassed. How was it she always managed to say the wrong things in front of the wrong people? "Uh, you know, I didn't mean to imply that the lectures are usually boring or anything…"

Alex smirked, summarily delighted by her guilty expression. "Oh, please do. I say it all the time. Why do you think I look forward to this lecture so much?"

She had to smile at his frankness. "When you put it like that…"

"Well, girl-who-is-considerably-opposed-to-our-program, unless you would like to be forever known by that name, what should I call you by?"

Sara laughed, extending a hand over the back of her chair. "I'm Sara Sidle".

"Pleasure to meet you. I'm assuming you're not a student at our fair school?"

She shook her head. "Uh, no. I was a few years ago".

He looked museful. "Ah, before my time." He paused, smiling faintly. "Shame".

She glanced at him, but Grissom resumed speaking before she could ponder the comment, and he melded back into the shadows.

Sara gradually turned around in her chair again, forcing herself to poise her pen over her notepad as she struggled to focus on the lecture again, sufficiently charmed and similarly mystified by the professor.

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She knew it would happen sooner or later.

Sara groaned, leaning back heavily on the front fender, wiping her greasy palms vaguely against her jeans.

The car was the bane of her existence, and this time it was definitely not going anywhere forward. This was it. She was done. In the morning, she was trading it in for a newer model. It might be a little outside her regular price range, but she would work overtime for a month just to rid herself of this ridiculous burden.

She glanced fleetingly around the darkened parking lot, shivering slightly from the night breeze as it shifted the palm trees above her. She straightened firmly, outward composure unwilling to portray the fact that the eerie stillness unsettled her.

_Okay. So obviously there's no knight in shining armour around to rescue you this time…_

She grimaced, wondering where it was to the nearest phone. The campus facilities were all locked up, and the nearest dormitories were a considerable walk away.

_Well. _What_ are you going to do now?_

"Car trouble?"

She glanced around, realising she hadn't even heard the steady hum of an approaching vehicle.

_Gee, you wouldn't want to be caught off-guard or anything._

She blinked when she realised the deep, gentle voice belonged to the charming professor she had met a few short hours ago.

"Oh. Hi", she said, distinctly relieved at his presence, as he steered his car to a halt beside her, engine still running. Call her paranoid, but she wasn't overly eager to wander the campus grounds by herself at night. "Uh, yeah, I think it's finally given in".

"Well, I can't claim to be any sort of mechanic, but would you like me to take a look?" he inquired politely, hands resting casually on the steering wheel as he observed her though the open window.

She sighed, unsurprisingly irritated by his typical male stereotyping. "No, that won't be… necessary. Trust me, I've looked. I think fixing it would require some sort of… blowtorch, and a lot of money I don't have".

Alex smirked, surprising her by showing amusement at her apparent annoyance. "I get the impression you don't appreciate chauvinism", he said dryly. "Noted, and respected."

She felt the corners of her lips turn up in a genuine smile.

"So", he continued casually. "Would you like a ride?"

She hesitated, glancing back at her pitiful car fleetingly. The likelihood of it being stolen were minimal considering how far it would get, and it hardly had any parts worth salvaging. "Sure", she said after a moment. She smiled gratefully. "That would be good."

_After all, what's the worst that could happen?_

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_Las Vegas, 2005_

"Is there something you're not telling me?"

Sara jumped, jolting around frantically in her seat as Nick's voice drifted accusingly into the break room.

She relaxed, slowly lowering the issue of Scientific American to the table as she followed his gaze to the steaming Styrofoam cup of coffee at her elbow. "Oh, uh yeah", she said, recovering quickly. "Warrick did a run to Starbucks earlier. Sorry we forgot about you. Apparently Greggo isn't surrendering his private stash".

She didn't mention the fact that she hadn't asked him herself because they hadn't spoken to one another since the previous shift.

Nick sighed pitifully, slumping into one of the leather conference chairs opposite her.

She felt a weak smile pull at her lips at his childish display. "Aw, what's the matter, Nicky?"

It was sad the way their friendship had disintegrated since the change in shifts. They had gone from an almost brother/sisterly affection, to catching a glimpse of one another five minutes every once in a while during the two-hour changeover.

Nick shrugged, leaning his head indolently back against the smooth leather headrest. "Nothin', really. Just this latest case that's dogging me".

She sighed, mind flicking to her own omnipresent case. "Yeah, I know the feeling".

He shifted, twisting his head against the chair to glance at her. "Uh, hmm, yeah, I heard about your case. Sounds rough, huh?"

Sara frowned, carefully stirring her spoon in her coffee and fixatedly avoiding his stare. "Why do you say that?" she asked, suddenly uncomfortable.

He frowned at her evasiveness. "Rape case, right? College co-ed? It's sad, that's all I'm saying".

Sara blinked, meeting his gaze as she quickly licked the foam off her spoon. "Right. Yeah. They always are, aren't they?"

Nick hesitated, brown eyes fixing on her thoughtfully. "Sara… is everything okay?" he asked after a moment. "You seem kind of like something might be bothering you".

She glanced at him again, wondering why it was he realised something was wrong with her when she didn't want him to notice it. When she had been drowning last year, he had been too preoccupied with their mutual rivalry over the promotion to even ask.

"I'm fine, Nicky", she said quietly.

He lifted an eyebrow, and by the sudden vehemence in his earnest expression, she assumed the office rumourmill was still running competently. But he knew her well enough not to comment on it.

"All right", was all he said, making it clear in his tone he didn't believe her. Warrick strode into the room, effectively ending any further attempts at conversation, and he nodded out into the hall.

"Sanders is moping out in the DNA lab", he noted in his typical nonchalant amusement. "Mia can't get rid of him."

Nick smirked absently. "Maybe the field's getting too much for him", he chuckled lightly.

Sara narrowed her eyes, rising to her feet and sliding back her chair. She pushed her half-empty Starbucks cup over the table towards Nick, and rounded the table on her way out. "Excuse me", she said abruptly.

She saw Warrick lift an eyebrow on her way past, but she ignored him, suddenly intent on making amends.

Greg was perched on a stool in the DNA lab, chin resting glumly in his fist. Mia stood over her working space, attempting to cotton swab several samples while glancing irritably in the corner of her eye every few seconds.

Sara cleared her throat, making her presence known in the room. Greg's eyes drifted up to her scantly, and he quickly lowered them again, linking his fingers indifferently on his knee.

She stifled a sigh. "Hey Mia, you wanna take a five minute break?"

Mia's cocoa-coloured eyes lifted to hers, and she caught the pleading look Sara directed her way, sighing heavily as she snapped off her gloves.

"I think I need a cup of coffee anyway".

Greg refused to meet her gaze after Mia left, and she would have smirked at his petulant child act, if she weren't deeply afraid their friendship has suffered some sort of permanent damage.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay?"

His eyes shot up and she inwardly cursed. She had sounded more defensive than apologetic and he didn't look moved by her laconic statement.

"Okay", he said glibly. "Great".

Sara squeezed her eyes shut, quickly stepping forward. "No, I…" She ran a hand over her eyes, deflating slightly. "I really am sorry, Greg. You were right. I was out of line, and I… I do have a… personal interest in the case. I shouldn't have used my seniority against you and I just… I want to apologise for that".

Greg blinked at her in quiet contemplation, leaning back indolently on his stool. Sara's eyes wavered over his, feeling incredibly uncomfortable as a result of his uncharacteristic silence.

He bopped his head, slowly, sliding off the stool. "Yeah, well. I shouldn't have yelled at you like that, so I'd say we're even. Cool?"

A small smile pulled at Sara's lips. She really did take Greg for granted way too much. "Of course".

He nodded, apparently relieved, and she realised he valued their friendship as much as she did. "Good." He bit his lower lip, glancing down at something on the table. "And listen, I won't… push you about that other stuff anymore. Whatever it is… it's your business."

She sighed, wishing she could confide in him, but knowing that even if she felt comfortable enough to do that, Grissom probably wouldn't appreciate anyone else having that much knowledge. Even if she and Grissom weren't as close as they used to be, she respected the tentative friendship they had now too much to jeopardise any part of it.

"Thanks, Greg", she murmured gratefully.

He nodded, slightly awkwardly. Then a shrill, female voice echoed down the hall, and both of them glanced around in surprise.

"What the hell…?" Sara muttered, shifting instantly back into work-mode.

She looked briefly at Greg; eyebrows raised high, and started briskly out into the hall, knowing he was following closely behind her.

Judy stood up behind the receptionist's desk, brown eyes widened anxiously behind her thin-rimmed glasses. Her usually placid features were harried and fearful, and her eyes darted frantically over to Greg and Sara as they entered the reception area.

Sara's eyes were immediately drawn to the centre of the sudden disturbance, a tall, slender woman of no more than twenty, with fierce, narrowed dark eyes, and a mess of unruly, reddish brown curls that toppled around her face as she yelled angrily.

"I know he did it. Everyone knows he did it! Why aren't you doing something about it! Why hasn't he been arrested!"

At the receiving end of her relentless diatribe was the very weary looking Gil Grissom, who stood by patiently as she directed a string of abuse his way. His blue eyes settled on Sara's over the young woman's shoulder, and remained there for a second too long, before returning to the woman's again.

"I can assure you we're doing everything we can, Ms. Hunter. Without any evidence to indict Professor Townsend—"

"What more evidence do you _need_?" she shrieked. "She told me _everything_. I've been her roommate all year. He had to have done it. Everyone knows he sleeps with his students. Everyone knows he was sleeping with _her_! She was with him that night wasn't she? Why aren't you DOING something?"

Sara was surprised by her accusations. She had no idea Alex was so indiscrete with his affairs. It was one thing for other staff members to know about it, ones he worked with on a daily basis, but other students? If everyone accused Alex, then… Then their already precarious investigation was going to get nasty.

"Excuse me, hi", she spoke up, crossing over abruptly to Grissom and the woman.

The woman glanced at her, hastily applied makeup streaking under her eyes, and Sara felt a stab of sympathy for her. Unfortunately, she all too frequently saw the after-effects of murder on those left behind, and detaching herself from it was a necessary compunction of her profession.

"I'm Sara Sidle", she said quietly, attempting to diffuse the situation, which had attracted a sizable crowd of lab-employees. "I'm working with Dr. Grissom on your case". The low level of her voice seemed to alert the woman to the scene she was causing, and her eyes darted around suddenly, quickly breaking the spell of tension that captivated the room.

Staff scuttled off, and Judy returned to her seat, hastily lowering her eyes to her computer monitor. Greg lifted an eyebrow, leaning back casually against the wide expanse of desk beside her, giving the there of them a polite amount of distance.

Sara wouldn't pretend to be any better in handling social situations than Grissom, but he was clearly in over his head, and unprepared- or _unwilling_- to deal with a grieving friend of their victim. She cleared her throat, glancing at him fleetingly. "Ms… Hunter?"

The woman swiped the back of her hand across her cheek, sighing tiredly. "Petra Hunter", she said, in a much calmer tone of voice. "Look, I'm sorry okay, it's just that I don't understand what's _taking_ so long. I spoke to Audrey the day before she died, and she told me she was planning on breaking it off with the professor."

Grissom looked suddenly more interested. "She did?"

She sighed impatiently. "_Yes_. I knew as soon as she got involved with him she would regret it. Audrey just isn't… wasn't the type of girl to risk her future like that. She takes her studying way too seriously. Look, I've been friends with her ever since she transferred from New York, and I had trouble getting her to go out to a _party_, for God's sake. Professor Townsend was… exciting, I guess. I knew it wouldn't last. If anyone found out about it, her credibility would be shot. All of her papers he graded, everything she did in the workshop… " She blew out a breath. "I _know_ he did it. If she let out what went on with them… Look, let's just say I've seen him when he's angry before. He would do anything to keep his reputation".

Grissom and Sara exchanged a long, measured look, and Sara quickly returned her consideration to Petra. "Look, Ms. Hunter, if he did it, we'll find out. We understand what you're going though, but until we have strong evidence against him… there's nothing we can do".

Petra looked away, brushing an errant curl out of her face. "Yeah. Right", she muttered, clearly unconvinced. "Whatever, thanks for your time. I have to call her mother to arrange _funeral_ plans".

She stalked away, barely sparing them a backward glance, and Sara and Grissom stood by in silence.

"I thought we weren't going to be biased in this investigation", Sara muttered softly.

Grissom lowered his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose loosely. Distant rings circled under his eyes, and she wondered dimly when the last time was he slept. "I tried to help as best I could".

Sara frowned at him, her own nerve endings frazzled beyond retrieval. "Why won't you just admit it?" she hissed, with a sudden terseness entirely inappropriate for a subordinate to her boss. "You don't want to arrest him because he'll expose our past and that could ruin your career".

A sudden, cold mask overtook Grissom's features, an expression she had never seen directed in her direction before, and she resisted the urge to step back in surprise. She wasn't afraid of him, but for one fleeting moment, she thought that she could be.

"Contrary to your belief, Sara, not everything is about my job", he snapped coldly.

She blinked at the brusqueness of his tone, inwardly wondering if his sentence has some layer of double meaning. He turned to leave, and paused, glancing back at her darkly. "And you should know, that Detective Vartan took Townsend down to the station ten minutes ago. They're waiting for us there".

Sara swallowed, visibly surprised by his statement, and stood stock still as he headed outside, into the parking lot. Greg hesitantly approached her, clearly having noted the tense exchange that had just transpired between them. "Um, everything okay, Sara?"

She drew in a deep breath, realising that she had probably just insulted Grissom in the worst possible way, and there wasn't a lot she could do to rectify it. "No", she muttered darkly. "Not really".

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**Author's Note: **Okay, so in my opinionthis chapter was filler, really- plain and simple. Just a way to help me overcome my long-running writer's block concerning this story. Seriously, comments, criticisms, and suggestions are all very welcome.


	6. Cause and Effect 6

**Author's Note: **It's okay everybody, because I _HAVE_ A PLAN! Thank you very much for the help, especially to _krysalys73_ for your helpful suggestions. I think I'm back on track now.

**Cause and Effect: Chapter six**

_Las Vegas, 2005_

He looked unaffected.

For a man whose entire career and reputation was at jeopardy, it was a relevant observation.

He sat back in his chair, studying the surface of the cold, steel table with detachment, completely unaware of their scrutiny through the one-sided glass, an untouched mug of coffee steaming at his elbow. He was well aware of the tricks of the department, and too intelligent to fall into any of their inconsequential traps. He wouldn't drink their coffee because they could use it for his DNA, or fill his bladder faster, making him want to talk.

Grissom hadn't supposed any of those things would work on Alex anyway. They were for the dim-witted criminals, the ones who were destined to slip up.

Detective Vartan glanced back at them, and Grissom nodded, gesturing that he was to go ahead first.

Sara remained carefully silent. She had avoided his gaze since her heated accusation back at the lab, folding her arms tightly around herself as if wishing to meld into the insipid cinder-block walls around them.

Her assumption had hurt. He knew there was a degree of personal fury behind the barb, years of the job seemingly taking priority over anything more intimate between them. It was that moment he realised that was what she believed. Sometimes he wished he could tell her his reluctance when she was concerned involved many facets, that his job was only the outer reserve. But that would be giving her too much insight, too much knowledge, and he resisted becoming that close to anyone.

It hurt that she believed he would allow his personal feelings to come in the way of any investigation, impede any opportunity at justice. His relationship with Alex Townsend was complicated and unexplainable, and her involvement in it was only a small part of it.

The glass door scuffed on the carpet as Vartan pulled it open, and he strode inside, Grissom and Sara mutely behind him.

Alex straightened some invisible crease on the sleeve of his dress suit, lifting slightly in his chair to eye them all with a practiced calm.

Grissom allowed Sara to take the seat beside the detective, leaning against the cool, hard wall behind them.

Alex linked his fingers calmly on the table before him, gaze lingering over Grissom's longer than necessary. Any continual civility between them was a smokescreen. Grissom's feelings towards the professor exceeded the mere professional disapproval he once might have felt, and he knew, deep within his heart, that he believed this man was capable of murder.

Vartan cleared his throat, as if sensing some vague tension spiralling in the room. For the time being, he chose the ignore it, but he was a perceptive man, and he would question them about it sooner or later.

"Mr. Townsend, we'd like to ask you some further questions if you don't mind", he started evenly. "I believe you know CSIs Grissom and Sidle?"

Alex's eyes darted over them fleetingly. "We're acquainted", he replied easily.

Sara's back was facing him, but he thought he saw an indistinct shiver run through her.

Vartan nodded. "Good. We'd like you to explain exactly what you did the morning you left the motel".

Alex sighed, as if he were doing them a great service by replying. "All right. I left around ten o'clock. Audrey was still half-asleep, we had… what you might call a busy night."

Vartan rolled his eyes. "She stayed behind then?"

He nodded. "She was tired. She had no classes that day. I didn't check out, we decided to keep the room for another night. I assumed she was going to sleep in, maybe go back to her dorm for some extra clothes, and come back later. I went to my hotel room very briefly to change and shower, and then I went straight to the university. My lecture was at twelve o'clock. I had several that day, and didn't leave the campus until around five. By the time I got back to the motel, police vehicles were already there."

Sara shifted forward. "Cleaning staff found her shortly after four o'clock. Since her nightgown was still on and the bed wasn't made, I think we can assume she never left the room. Funny, you left at ten o'clock, but your lecture wasn't for two hours. The campus is only a twenty-minute drive. And the Palms is on the way. It doesn't take very long to do all of that".

Alex barely wavered. "I had a few errands to run beforehand. I wanted to consult with another professor over some of my lecture notes."

"Really?" Sara asked. "Which professor was that?"

Alex sighed tiredly. "Professor Turpin."

Grissom lifted an eyebrow, intrigued by this sudden inconsistency. "Interesting that he didn't mention that when we spoke to him".

Alex glanced up at him, shrugging lightly. "It was a hectic morning, Dr. Grissom. I had to wait quite some time for him to finish speaking with some students who were falling behind. I anticipated that. Students find Fred's lectures… difficult."

Sara slanted an eyebrow. "What time did you arrive at the campus?"

Alex pursed his lips thoughtfully. "I'd say perhaps eleven thirty".

Grissom felt his suspicions confirmed grudgingly. Unless Alex produced an alibi, his whereabouts were unaccounted for at Audrey's time of death.

Sara was on the same wavelength. "Can any hotel staff confirm your presence there?"

Alex shrugged. "Perhaps; I really couldn't say. It's a large hotel. I'm not sure if any of them would have paid any notice."

Vartan slowly leant back in his chair. "Mr. Townsend, perhaps you're not aware, but Audrey was murdered at approximately eleven o'clock that day. Your story doesn't sound very good at this stage."

Alex narrowed his eyes slightly, remaining silent.

"Are you aware that Audrey was considering ending your relationship?" Sara piped up levelly.

Alex's eyes drifted over hers again, and a wry smile overtook his features. "I had the feeling she wanted to discuss something, but she didn't mention it. But there were no strings involved in our relationship. If she wanted to end it, I wasn't going to pressure her otherwise. It was a very casual affair."

Sara remained carefully indifferent. "Are you sure you didn't handle her rejection badly?"

Alex's gaze held hers for a moment too long, and Grissom could see the stiffness in her posture.

"Ms. Sidle", he said in a low, careful voice. "Many people have accused me of being a womaniser. I don't deny that. But I would not commit murder over something so insignificant. I value my professional reputation too highly for a start".

Grissom narrowed his eyes slightly, and they asked him a few more questions before letting him go. Despite his claims, it was obvious he was going to be needing a lawyer.

Before he even took one step out of the interview room, Grissom's cell phone shrilled loudly in his pocket. He sighed, glancing around to see that Sara had already disappeared down the hall, and he flipped it open tiredly, without checking the number first.

"Grissom".

"I want you in my office as soon as you get back from the lab", the curt, nasal voice of Conrad Ecklie barked in way of greeting.

Grissom rolled his eyes, pushing the door open as he strode out into the dimly lit parking lot. Sara leant patiently against the passenger door of the Tahoe, studiously studying something on the distant neon-lit skyline.

"Good evening to you too, Conrad", he said calmly. "Are you going to tell me what this is about?"

He saw Sara glance over at the sound of his voice, and his shoes scuffed lightly on the dark black bitumen as he halted in front of her.

The dim sounds of the office came back to him over the line, and Ecklie hissed angrily. "You know damn well what this is about, Gil. Don't be late".

Grissom lowered the phone to his side, clasping it shut with a measured flick of his wrist. His eyes travelled over Sara's, who had abandoned her feigned fascination with the sky, and was staring at him uncertainly.

"Well", he said flatly. "That's that then".

Sara lifted an eyebrow questioningly.

"Ecklie wants to see me in his office when we get back", he elaborated coolly.

Sara swallowed, realisation clouding her features. "We're off the case, aren't we?"

Grissom kept his face unreadable. "It's more than likely".

Sara nodded, tightening his lips as she glanced down. She frowned as silence descended over them. "Grissom… I'm, um, sorry for what I said earlier. You're my boss and I shouldn't have spoken to you like that, and… I… shouldn't have said what I did. I shouldn't have questioned your integrity like that".

Grissom remained silent, face half in shadow, as it was his turn to study something intently in the distant.

"Clearly, you're not the only one who is", he said quietly.

She folded her arms, leaning back against the sleek black door of the car. "You haven't done anything wrong", she said, with more conviction that he felt himself.

He glanced at her briefly, feeling very tired. The sudden worry in her expression reminded him how young she really was. It was something he forgot all too frequently. He often feared if the job would destroy her exuberance by the time she was his age, if the passion and intensity she possessed now would fade into sombre resignation. He realised all too suddenly that it already was.

"We should get back", he said quietly, shifting slowly and sliding his cellphone vaguely in his pocket.

Sara frowned at him, watching him for a long moment, before nodding and turning to climb into her side.

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_San Francisco, 1994_

Several more days passed by in his seminar before Grissom recognised Sara's pretty features in the teeming flow of faces. She sat in the middle row, gaze carefully focused on his as he ran through several introductory concepts of entomology, but he sensed something preoccupied in her composure.

When he concluded he was assaulted by the typical barrage of questions, and when the crowd finally ebbed, she had already left.

He sighed inwardly, wondering what it was about their few exchanges that drew him back to her so strongly. He sighed, gathering up his accumulation of notes, and starting out into the afternoon light.

"Hello, Gil".

He glanced around, recognising the eloquent voice of the professor.

He nodded in greeting, righting his briefcase in his hands. "Alex. I haven't seen you for a few days".

Alex shrugged absently, tugging his jacket over his shoulders as they started down the stairs of the auditorium. "I've been busy lately. Haven't had much chance of coming to your sessions. I tell you, if you think your job is hectic, try schooling 40 kids through their midterms". He lowered his sunglasses, glanced at Grissom vaguely. "So I hear the board has planned some sort of mixer for the seminar tomorrow evening".

Grissom smiled vaguely. "So I've been told".

Alex glanced at him thoughtfully, shuffling around for his keys. "Can I assume you'll be attending?"

Grissom shrugged. "I suppose it's required. I should be there. How about you?"

"Wouldn't miss it", the professor said jovially. He located his keys, stopping on the pavement as they reached his car. Grissom glanced down, noting a slight scratch on the otherwise flawless black exterior.

"I see the vandals have been at your car", he observed nonchalantly.

Alex's eyes darted down, and he frowned slightly, before nodding slowly in agreement. "Oh, yes. Uh, one of the perils of being a teacher these days, I suppose".

His gaze turned distant, and Grissom glanced at him oddly. "Alex?"

The professor twitched, glancing up quickly as he emerged from his distraction. "Sorry. I have to say; I'm looking forward to a decent night's sleep tonight for a change. I've been phasing out all day, I'm afraid".

Grissom lifted an eyebrow at the sudden shift in his bearing, shrugging lightly. "Well, I'll see you tomorrow night, I suppose."

Alex nodded. "See you later".

Grissom strode away, distinctly uncertain about something in Alex's behavior. In retrospect, he thought it was only his friendship with the man that failed to allow him to glimpse the obvious signs when they were there, signs, which as an investigator, he was trained to identify.

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_Las Vegas, 2005_

Catherine was in Ecklie's office, which shouldn't have struck him as such a surprise, but it did.

It was obviously not predetermined; she was discussing some non-related case with the assistant-lab director, but as his sly, shifty eyes drifted up in response to Grissom's terse knock, it was obvious her presence was only an added bonus, judging by the subtle smirk that tugged at his smarmy features.

"Gil. Please, come in", he said flatly, sounding considerably more restrained than he had on the phone.

Catherine's light blue eyes ticked upward from the casefile spread precariously on her lap, and her brows furrowed almost imperceptibly in puzzlement, but she didn't offer to leave.

Grissom resisted the urge to heave a weary sigh, and lowered himself civilly into the chair opposite the man who was now regrettably his superior.

"What can I do for you, Conrad?" he asked calmly.

Ecklie's eyebrows knotted together, and he glanced briefly at Catherine on Grissom's side, obviously relishing the fact that he was going to have an audience.

"I think you know very well what you're doing here, Grissom", he said darkly. "I believe you're previously acquainted with your only suspect in the Audrey Fraiser case, Alex Townsend. Is there a _reason_ you neglected to share this information before?"

Grisosm knew there was nothing the supercilious man loved more than having direct power over him. When before their exchanges had been disdainful but distanced because of their status, Ecklie now had the ability to be completely disrespectful and it was all in the name of 'the lab'.

He leant back in his chair, eyeing the other man levelly, attempting to keep some semblance of professionalism. "We were once distant colleagues, Conrad. I wouldn't exactly say it's the kind of connection that merits a meeting".

Conrad glared at him irritably. Grissom knew, and was safe in his confidence, that no matter how badly this meeting went, Ecklie would not fire him. He meant too much to the lab, and it was control he could utilise over Ecklie, if he was the kind of man to power play like that.

Ecklie wasn't to be dissuaded, and smiled unpleasantly. "I wasn't actually finished", he said sarcastically. "You also intentionally concealed the fact that he attended the same seminar… that you met Sara Sidle".

Catherine's head swivelled around in her chair, visibly startled.

Grissom sighed wearily, ignoring his friend's sudden probing stare. "Yes, that's true", he conceded unwillingly.

Ecklie ticked a pointed eyebrow. "I spoke to several of your old colleges at Berkley", he went on. "They say this isn't the first time Alex Townsend has been involved with one of his students. They also said they had seen he and Sara together several times. So perhaps we should start again, and this time you can explain to me exactly why both you and Sara chose to impede our investigation".

Grissom remained immovable in his seat. Catherine's files lay all but forgotten on her knees, and she had shifted forward so quickly they nearly toppled to the floor before she hastily righted them.

Grissom at last broke the silence. "What do you want me to say, Conrad?" he asked tiredly. "That Sara was involved with Alex?"

Conrad appeared unusually perceptive as he stared at Grissom over the wide expanse of his desk. "Ordinarily, I would, but knowing Sidle, I'd assume that was hardly the case".

Catherine cleared her throat. "Is this really probative to their investigation, Conrad? Can't you just take both of them off the case?"

Ecklie glanced at her; obviously annoyed he did not have an ally like he had assumed he would.

"I can assure you that's already been done", he said flatly. "Which is why it's a good thing you're already here, Catherine, because I'll be appointing the case over to your shift. Sanders is too inexperienced to handle it with just Sofia, and the Sheriff has given this one a high priority."

Catherine sat back, looking vaguely annoyed to be brought into such a high profile case halfway, but she didn't voice her complaints.

Ecklie's gaze returned to Grissom, and he pursed his lips tightly. "What I'd like to know, Gil, is exactly what your prior relationship is with Sara Sidle".

Grissom blinked, genuinely caught off guard at the worst possible moment. He had not even expected Ecklie to go down that road, but obviously Ecklie assumed there was something worth pursuing.

"What exactly are you implying?" he asked, a little too abruptly.

Ecklie leant forward impatiently, clasping his hands over his desk. "Don't be stupid on this, Grissom", he said bluntly. "If you two had a previous relationship, it brings both of your credibility into question. This already looks bad for you, so if you have something to admit, I'd suggest you get it out right now".

Grissom narrowed his eyes, genuinely derisive. "Sara and I have a perfectly respectable working relationship, we always have. That's all", he snapped.

Catherine chewed her lip; she looked vaguely uncomfortable. Grissom realised she doubted him, and it only increased his irritation further. Ecklie, meanwhile, was studying him sceptically, and Grissom realised that by denying it, even if it was true, he had just put himself- and Sara- in a very perilous situation.

If Catherine and her team investigated Alex further, and he was found to be the perpetrator, he had no doubt the professor would insinuate something further had gone on between them. Because despite what he said, their relationship wasn't as uncomplicated as a simple working relationship, and everyone who worked with them was well aware of that. Even if nothing had ever happened, no one would have any difficulty believing otherwise.

Ecklie looked tired with the way their conversation was going, and sat back again in his chair.

"I have to take disciplinary action, Grissom", he said flatly. "I'm putting you on suspended leave, effective immediately".

Catherine jerked in surprise. "Ecklie, you can't do that!" she exclaimed, but he could see she had doubts of her own.

Ecklie obviously sensed it too. He simply shook his head. "He intentionally withheld information. And obviously Sidle was the wrong choice for the acting supervisor position, so she can kiss that goodbye."

Grissom frowned. "You can't blame her for this".

"The hell I can't. And frankly, I think there's something else you're not telling us about your past with Alex Townsend, and I can't tolerate it.

"Until further notice, you're out of my lab."

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	7. Cause and Effect 7

**Cause and Effect: Chapter seven**

"Gil, wait."

Grissom firmly ignored Catherine's bustling attempt to follow him as he strode briskly for his office, not bothering to slow in his pace, sending several lab techs scattering in the process.

At last, he reached the cool, muted interior, and was half-tempted to close the door in her face. The blonde was too quick for him, and stepped firmly over the threshold before closing it behind herself.

He barely glanced at her, bending over his desk and brusquely gathering together a stack of his paperwork, intending to give himself something to do over the duration of his unforeseen suspension.

"Grissom, what the hell just happened in there?" she demanded disbelievingly, ignorant to the rigid line of his shoulders, or the jerky, stiltedness of his movements.

Grissom ignored her, depositing the files roughly in his briefcase. "Catherine, I'm really not in the mood to talk about this", he grunted insensibly.

She huffed impatiently, hands flying to her hips. Even with his back to her, he could feel her sharp blue eyes piercing his back with resolve. "Well that's too damn bad, because we're _going_ to talk about it".

He turned to face her, dropping the case with a sudden resonant thud on his desk. He had been fully prepared to resign himself to his fate, but Catherine wasn't going to let him do that._ "What_ do you want me to say?"

Catherine stared back at him, barely flinching in the face of his unexpected anger, prepared to get to the bottom of what she'd just witnessed. "Was Ecklie onto something in there?" she asked bluntly.

A deep scowl lined his weary features. He knew better than to think she would be discrete about what she had heard in Ecklie's office.

She plunged recklessly ahead, heedless to his discomfort. "Look, I'll agree that Ecklie has his head rammed so far up his ass where you're concerned that he'd suspend you over a lot less", she said evenly. "But you're hiding something, Grissom, and… it's just not like you. Do you want to think about what you're doing here? You're jeopardising your career for _what_? Alex Townsend? _Sara_?"

His blue eyes narrowed like ice, and his tongue felt thick and slow. Why couldn't she just _leave_ it? "Leave Sara out of this".

"Like hell I will", she spat angrily, jabbing her perfectly manicured finger at him mid-air. He wasn't sure if she was pushing this because she was professionally concerned for him, or if it was for some as yet unknown personal advancement. He realised that couldn't honestly make that judgement about her inner motives.

"_Did_ you have a relationship before she came here?" she demanded frankly. "Is _that_ what this is about?"

Grissom couldn't believe he was discussing this again. His fingers seized around the corner of his desk with a death-iron grip. "What is it about my earlier statement that is so difficult to understand, Catherine?" he said tightly.

She scoffed derisively, shaking her head at her own stupidity. "You're right, of course you didn't. We wouldn't have had to deal with your constant Goddamned unresolved sexual tension the last four and a half years if you had!"

Grissom clenched his jaw incredulously, but even in his indignation he couldn't look at her. "_Catherine_!"

She rolled her eyes, throwing her hands in the air. "You know what, _fine_! I tried to do the right thing here by asking you first, but obviously I'm just going to have to wait for the investigation to find out what this is about."

She whirled, blonde hair rushing rapidly behind her, flicking against her cheek. She paused with her hand on the doorknob, glaring back at him angrily.

"And don't think I _won't_ find out, Gil", she said flatly. "Because if this case is about Alex Townsend, its just as much going to be about you".

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All members of the nightshift and swingshift combined sat around the conference table, an air of distinct tension suffusing the break room. Their conflicting expressions all mirrored an obvious inability to deal with Catherine's sudden and unexpected announcement.

"Grissom was suspended?" Nick repeated, sounding vaguely horrified. "_Why_?"

Catherine's gaze darted briefly over Sara, and Sara shifted uncomfortably under the blonde's sudden razor-sharp scrutiny. Great. What else had they discussed in their meeting?

"He had a prior relationship with a suspect", she explained succinctly, as if daring them to question her further. "He didn't mention it to Ecklie".

Nick frowned, descending into an unsettled silence. Greg sat beside him, fidgeting and looking likewise perplexed. He shot his own fleeting glance in Sara's direction, before returning his quiet stare to the table.

Sofia straightened in her seat, oblivious to the room's discomfort. "Who's in charge of our shift?" she inquired politely.

Catherine's eyes darted over her own team, and she sighed heavily, visibly unhappy with the conclusion Ecklie had obviously come to. "For the time being, Warrick is going to be acting supervisor."

Warrick's only response to this was to lift an impassive eyebrow, but Nick's eyes shot up in surprise. "_What_?" he exclaimed irritably. "That means we're only working with a two-person shift, Cath! How are we supposed to manage the caseload?"

Weary lines crinkled Catherine eyes as she turned to him, clearly expecting his opposition. "I spoke to Ecklie about that. He's decided to temporarily move Sofia over from nightshift."

Sofia looked genuinely irritated by this news, and Sara couldn't blame her. Being constantly budged from shift to shift was hardly helping her professional development. She dimly wondered what the blonde had done to get into Ecklie's bad books. "How many times are our shifts going to be _reshuffled_?"

Catherine sighed in tired exasperation. "Well, I'm sorry, but there's not a lot I can do about it now. Sofia, Nick and I will take over Audrey Fraiser's case. Graveshift will transfer over some of our cases to balance the load. For the time being, this is how it's going to be. At least until Grissom is reinstated."

Quiet, dissatisfied silence fell over the table and Sara glanced down at her hands, remaining silent. She couldn't believe Ecklie had over exaggerated like this. Actually, no, she could believe it. He had been looking for another excuse to bring Grissom's professional leadership into question for months now, and this was just an opportunity he couldn't pass up.

Slowly, the meeting broke up, and everyone retreated back to their respective workstations. Sara lingered in her chair, shuddering slightly. None of them had said it, but she could see the doubt shining in the eyes of her colleagues. Her presence on the case hadn't been discussed, but she was obviously removed from it, and all of them knew there was a reason why.

She closed her eyes, cradling her forehead tiredly in her palm.

Grissom had seemed confident he wouldn't lose his job the last time he covered for her. But what if he was wrong? What if he was fired this time?

She had played his mournful confession to Lurie over and over in her mind for the past year, and added to his precedent behaviour, she knew what it ultimately meant. He wasn't willing to get involved with her because it would risk his career, and everything he had worked for. If he lost all of that because of her now… She knew he would never forgive her.

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_San Francisco, 1994_

She straightened her light, wine-coloured blouse unconsciously as she crossed the campus grounds, heels sinking in the moist lawn as she cut obliquely across it.

Her mass of generally disorderly curls were pulled up in a stylish, yet modest style, and she wondered if she had overdone it a little on the 'neat casual' dress-code.

The modest function hall the university frequently used for events was dimly lit with a scattering of strategically pre-arranged fairy lights, and opened into a small courtyard where several buffet tables had been set up.

Small clusters of students and staff stood chatting softly around the entrance and inner hall, and a distinct, relaxed atmosphere enclosed the room.

Sara strode inside, eyes darting around almost unconsciously, not for the man she voluntarily sought, but the one she didn't.

Why did you come here if you knew he would be here? 

She bit her inner lip, knowing the answer to that even before she properly formulated the question.

Gil Grissom.

Why else? The seminar was over in a few short days, and he would be returning to his life in Vegas. Their brief, but amicable student/teacher relationship had been swift and a learning curve for her certainly, but there was some intangible gravitation between them that she just felt the unprecedented need to…. explore.

Sara didn't generally seek out men. Relationships came to her, and she was willing to let them. Unlike many other women her age, she never felt that inherent desire to marry and settle down as soon as possible. Her career had always been her main concern, and anything else was just… secondary. Fun. Casual.

Predictable.

She didn't like her unwitting attraction to Grissom. It was new and completely terrifying just as it was thrilling, and it was something she was unable to control. For Sara, who spent her entire teenage and adult years attempting to maintain complete and utter power over the life she had had no bearing over as a child, that was unacceptable.

She scoffed to herself, standing awkwardly by the buffet. Why had she come here? She glanced down almost unconsciously; still feeling the dull, hidden bruises that grazed the knuckles of her hand, and knew it had been doubly a mistake.

She turned with a sudden steadfast resolve, intent on leaving her ridiculous, idealistic fantasies far, far behind —

and almost walked directly into one object of her contemplation.

Sara blinked, unwilling drawn to the infinite, impossibly blue crystal eyes of Gil Grissom, slender frame quivering almost imperceptibly.

He looked good. Again, she hated that she noticed, but he was a very attractive man. His chiselled figure was clad in a plan black jacket and button up shirt, and his tousled brown curls shifted slightly as he glanced at her. His blue eyes were crinkled and amused, and she found it genuinely difficult to believe this man was nearing forty.

And she also wondered why it was she sensed he enjoyed their meetings as much as she did.

"Uh, hi", she said slowly, finding her voice. She glanced down, realising how close they were, and quickly stepped away.

A smile twitched at his lips. "Leaving?" he guessed, eyes drifting nonchalantly over her. She didn't miss the fleeting, almost indiscernible glimmer of admiration, and she decided the outfit had definitely been worth it.

She licked her lips, earlier plans all but forgotten. "Not at all", she answered softly.

He nodded pleasantly. "Good. I was wondering if you were going to show up. I haven't seen you for a while".

She hesitated, wondering if he'd sensed she'd been avoiding him. Well, not him, perse, just his seminar by association.

"I've been, uh, a little busy at the lab", she conceded carefully.

Which was true. Sort of. Chris had her working overtime on a convenience store robbery. She'd just solved it earlier than he had expected her to.

Grissom simply accepted her explanation, glancing around vaguely. "I don't really understand why they don't hold these events at the start of the seminar", he admitted conversationally.

Sara smiled. "You don't sound like you enjoy them very much".

Grissom was an impressive speaker, but he struck her as the type to enjoy a quiet, undisturbed evening at home rather than voluntarily socialising. Kind of like her.

"Well, I have to admit I'm a little impatient to return to Las Vegas", he said lightly.

"I guess teaching isn't the same as getting out there, is it?" Sara mused thoughtfully.

He glanced at her, surprised agreement lighting his eyes. "It's an occasional indulgence. I prefer going out into the field much more".

She nodded, surprised herself that she understood that need. "Me too".

They gazed at each other a moment, until the sudden, not at all uncomfortable intensity was broken by a cheerful, high-spirited male voice.

"I have to tell you, Gil, I think they overcompensated with the champagne a little, but really, who am I to complain?"

The low, charming timbered voice struck a cord within her, and she felt herself freeze, and time seemed to take on an infinite quality as she slowly turned to discover the source.

Alex's casual brown gaze drifted down to hers immediately, and the unhidden flash of panic was visible for a fleeting moment before being carefully concealed behind a cool mask.

Grissom, sensing something off between the two of them, uncertainly cleared his throat. "Uh, Sara, this is—"

"I know who he is", she interrupted flatly, taking a sudden immense difficulty to maintain her composure. She lowered her dark eyes, stepping abruptly away from Grissom in the process.

"Excuse me, I have to go", she muttered, not caring how rude she was being, but knowing she had to get out of there right then. She felt her stomach roll unsteadily, and the overhead lights were suddenly too warm on her face, making a steady, anxious flush creep up her neck.

She backed unsteadily away from them, whirling and stalking rapidly for the exit.

Grissom blinked after Sara's sudden departure, a disturbing sensation welling instinctively in the depths of his gut.

Alex swivelled his champagne glass idly in one hand, glancing after her briefly with a careless disregard. "That was a little rude, don't you think?"

Grissom's eyes flitted over him, and Alex glanced at him momentarily, lifting a sage eyebrow. "What? Don't tell me that's the girl you were telling me about", he realised slowly. "The one who works in forensics?"

Grissom frowned, deeply troubled by the professor's sudden reaction. "Does it matter if she is?"

He wouldn't meet Grissom's eyes, staring vacantly out the far window. "I'd stay away from her if I were you, Gil".

Grissom stared at him, uncomprehending. "Why?"

"Just trust me on this", Alex said, more forcibly than necessary, and clutched the glass firmly to his side. "I need some fresh air", he muttered, shifting through the sudden congestion of crowd toward the courtyard doors.

Grissom stood on his own, staring after his newly departed friend disbelievingly. Was he telling the truth? Was there something he didn't know about Sara, something that needed to be avoided? Her sudden exit certainly suggested she wanted to be nowhere near his vicinity while he was with Alex. Was it because Alex knew something he didn't?

He glanced after Alex, allowing his paranoia to manifest fully. The truth that he had been so adamantly unwilling to see was suddenly becoming startlingly clear to him.

Lowering his own untouched glass to the surface of a nearby table, he made a decision.

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Sara stood impatiently behind a bronze-tanned, dark haired guy with a fraternity jacket bunched around his forearms huddled in the phonebooth, who had suddenly decided now was the opportune time to break up with his girlfriend.

She tapped her foot on the nearby pavement, huffing a breath impatiently. Like this night could get any worse. She just wanted to go home, bury herself under her warm, expensively frivolous covers and pretend this had just never happened.

She closed her eyes in frustration, restraining herself from pacing the length of the sidewalk like some caged loon, when a warm hand on her shoulder startled her from her inner diatribe.

"Sara".

She whirled around, heart hammering painfully, and her hand instinctively flew up to land over her chest.

Grissom lowered his hand to his side, looking hesitant and uncomfortable, and he shifted apologetically. "Sorry".

She kept her gaze focused firmly ahead, staring out into the expansive, darkened campus instead of into his piercing, blue gaze.

"What do you want, Grissom?"

Even in the shadows, she could see him frown in the corner of her eye. "I came to see… if you wanted a ride home".

"I can call a taxi", she said flatly, folding her arms protectively over her midsection.

Grissom glanced at the phonebooth, where the frat boy was now pleading with his girlfriend to stop screaming at him. "I don't think you'll be doing that any time soon".

She shrugged impatiently, narrowing her eyes. "Then I'll find another phonebooth".

"Sara…"

He sighed deeply, and strode around her side, so he was standing directly in her line of sight. "I can't pretend to understand what happened back there, but I think I have some idea", he said quietly.

Her eyes darted over his. He looked uncomfortable. Why wouldn't he? He didn't really know her, and Alex Townsend was obviously his friend. "I wasn't aware you two knew each other", she muttered, fluttered her eyes downward. "Which is stupid, because you're speaking at the seminar, and he's on the forensics department…"

"I wasn't aware you knew him, either", he admitted quietly, stuffing his hands awkwardly in his pockets. "But I guess it suddenly makes a great deal of sense."

Sara frowned, unfolding her arms to look at him squarely. "Grissom, I'd… I'd appreciate a ride home", she admitted. "But other than that… I really don't want to talk about it".

He pursed his lips, and she realised she was glimpsing another side of him, the side that dealt with hysterical victims and grieving relatives every day. He possessed a calmness and outer serenity that she found strangely enveloping, and despite her incapacity to trust others, she found herself immediately trusting him.

"All right", he said, with a practised care, hand unconsciously closing over her elbow in a distinctly chivalrous manner. "I'll take you to my car".

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	8. Cause and Effect 8

**Author's Note:** Many thanks to CSIFreak for the beta and to everyone who has reviewed so far. Seriously, do not stop now. I need all the encouragement I can get.

**Cause and Effect: Chapter eight**

_San Francisco, 1994_

Sara slid her key tiredly in the lock, and Grissom hovered uncertainly in the threshold behind her as she entered her apartment, throwing her belongings offhandedly in a fruit bowl near the door.

She glanced back at him, sighing impatiently, as both of them recognised the inappropriateness of this situation. He was her teacher, technically, and if Grissom could condemn Alex for this sort of behavior, he could hardly do it himself with being hypocritical.

On the other hand, his concern for Sara was bothering him, and despite her earlier silence in the car ride there, he got the feeling she wanted to explain things now.

She swallowed, meeting his eyes evenly. She was hesitant, sweeping her forefinger absently over her table. "You can come in, Grissom", she said softly.

He thought she seemed vaguely hurt that he wouldn't trust her enough to enter, and he sighed, quickly closing the door behind him. He was unqualified in these social situations. He briefly wished Catherine were here to tell him what to do, before quickly dismissing the thought.

He glanced around, momentarily taking in her surroundings, as if it would somehow allow him some further insight the woman who was Sara Sidle. Her apartment was painted in intimate, earthly tones, warm reds and browns, but there was an underlying femininity that was very much apparent in her personality. The living room was a modest room adjoining the small kitchenette, and he reminded himself that she was only twenty-three, and could hardly afford anything more spacious. Thick, wooden bamboo blinds covered the windows, and various weathered books scattered the furniture. There were several, photographs lining the walls and mantelpiece, but he noticed almost casually that none of them appeared to picture family members.

He cleared his throat, gaze drifting over the bright young woman before him, silently allowing his brief appraisal. She was an intricacy all of her own. Just when he thought he had her figured out, she did something completely surprising and unexpected.

"My car… broke down again a few days ago", she started without preamble, voice suddenly thick and hoarse. She paused, tracing the wood grain pattern idly with her thumb. "I met Alex at your seminar and he offered me a ride home".

He felt his heart seize apprehensively, as he eyed her uncomfortably. Alex was a charming man. Despite his regular influx of casual relationships, all the women he pursued generally knew of his notorious reputation. Sara obviously didn'tbecause he knew she didn't appreciate womanizersif her relationship with her boss was evidence enough.

She shrugged. "It was stupid I guess, right? When I got out of the car, he came onto me, and he… wouldn't let me go. I guess things got a little out of hand because, uh, I sort of hit him."

Grissom remembered the faint scratch along the side of Alex's car, and swallowed nervously. Unfortunately, he could all too clearly see how the situation would escalate that way.

Alex didn't take to rejection well. He rarely had to deal with it, but Grissom had no doubt he wouldn't. He just hadn't imagined the man could get violent.

"Sara, did he…?"

She frowned deeply, obviously incredibly uncomfortable to be discussing this with him. Her posture was stiff and standoffish, and the table stood between them as a tangible barrier.

"No! God no. Believe me, I… I would have reported something like that. I'm a CSI, Grissom, I know enough about my job to…" She sighed impatiently. "Look, he… he makes me nervous", she admitted, and she immediately bit her lip, obviously not intending to share that with him.

Grissom's brows furrowed intently. She wondered what he was thinking. He looked genuinely concerned, but why did he have any reason to believe her? The answer truly eluded her. Alex was his colleague, his friend, and she was sure this wasn't the first time a student had made such an allegation against a teacher in a bid to get attention. She didn't want attention. That was the last thing she wanted.

She had been raised around physical and emotional abuse, and she knew what the aftermath of its effects were when other people got involved. But Alex had assaulted her. It wasn't as if he had done anything seriously criminal, but she couldn't help thinking that if she hadn't known how to defend herself… he might have.

It was that which made her nervous. The way he looked at her, the few times they had incidentally crossed paths on the campus grounds or in the seminar. That was why she avoided the place. She didn't want to cause any trouble by reporting anything when nothing really had happened, but she knew it went against all of her inner moral scruples to do nothing.

She supposed telling Grissom was a compromise. He was a member of the university community, but he wasn't on the actual faculty, and she sensed that she could trust him. That was, perhaps the most significant reason of all.

"I don't know how to handle this", Grissom admitted, in an uncharacteristic sign of powerlessness.

Sara shook her head slowly; brunette locks slipping back over her shoulders. "You don't have to handle anything, Grissom. I just… Just promise me you'll remember that he isn't the man you think he is."

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_Las Vegas, 2005_

"Okay", Catherine said levelly, glancing around the layout room table at Nick, Sofia, and Greg, who had offered to take them through their initial findings of the crime, since Grissom was now gone, and Sara was suddenly MIA.

"So what've we got?"

Greg sighed, appearing slightly nervous to have the floor over the three other more experienced CSIs, but he hid it in his usual stride.

"Well, we don't have a lot", he admitted, gesturing vaguely at the crime scene photos. "Prints on the nightstand came up as unknown, and they could be from anyone who stayed in that room at any time." He shrugged, and Catherine was briefly proud to see him taking control like this.

"Okay", she said, considering. "What about the hairs found on the bed? Anything probative?"

He slowly shook his head. "All of them came back as either Audrey Fraser, or Alex Townsend. The killer, whoever he was, cleaned every square inch of that motel room after he was finished. We checked the vacuum bags, but they'd been cleaned. He left no trace of himself behind."

Nick frowned. "Sounds like he would have needed a lot of time to do all that. Didn't Townsend have a lecture at twelve o'clock?"

Greg nodded. "Yeah, and her time of death was at eleven. We talked to the hotel reception staff at the Palms, and they say they don't remember seeing him come back to the hotel earlier it was so busy, so that was a bust. It's a twenty-minute drive to UNLV from the crime scene, so we were thinking its possible he just went straight to his lecture".

Catherine slanted an eyebrow doubtfully. "It still takes a lot of time to clean up a crime scene that thoroughly."

"And it seems doubtful he would go to the university with evidence all over him", Sofia put in.

Greg shrugged. "Well, in his interrogation he mentioned arriving at the university at eleven thirty to speak with one of the professors. Uh, Fred Turpin?"

"Have you confirmed this yet?" Catherine asked.

He shifted. "Well, it was… on the agenda, until all of this crazy stuff started to happen. Then it kind of just got put on the backburner…"

Catherine rolled her eyes. "Great. So to me, it's sounding more and more likely that we may be able to eliminate our only suspect." She sighed deeply. "Okay. Nick, go back to the Palms and ask for their security tapes from ten-thirty to twelve o'clock on the day of the murder. I want to know if he's telling us the truth. Sofia, go back to the crime scene, check garbage cans, dumpsters, anywhere this guy could have dumped any evidence. I'm going to go talk to this professor guy, see if he can confirm Townsend's visit."

"It still doesn't give him an alibi", Nick piped up. "He could have done everything in time and still gotten to his lecture".

Catherine gave him a look, inwardly amazed at how much evidence Grissom and Sara had clearly overlooked. Greg looked uncomfortable too, like she was going to blame the rookie for their slip-ups. She hated to admit it, but Ecklie had obviously made the correct decision in taking them off this case. They were letting their prejudices blind them to other leads, and she just hoped their careers wouldn't suffer for it.

"Yeah, Nicky", she said calmly. "But it gives him reasonable doubt, and right now, that's going to have to be enough".

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Grissom's front door stood tall and imposingly before her, and to add to her already growing lack of dignity, it had started to rain.

Her brown locks began to curl soggily around her face as the skies opened and she ducked hurriedly under the small shelter serving as his front porch, barely able to give herself the courage bolster she needed before lowering her forefinger to the bell.

The horizon had barely started to lighten with the sudden, unexpected influx of storm clouds over the barren city, and despite the earliness of the hour, Sara knew he would still be awake. For all intents and purposes, he was still on the clock, and it would be several hours before he felt the need to sleep.

It only took several moments for Sara to perceive the dull sound of footsteps on the other side of the door, and then the click of the latch as Grissom opened the door.

He blinked at her, and she couldn't blame him. She couldn't remember the last time she had been to his townhouse. In fact, on a social basis, she didn't think she ever had. She stared at him, eyes widening slightly, and she licked her lips, blurting out her sentence before she could even properly formulate the words.

"I am so sorry, Grissom".

A deep frown overtook his features, and he stared at her for a long, tense moment, before he seemed to realise that she was standing in the middle of an increasingly heavy downpour, and hastily moved past to let her inside. "Sara, get inside before you catch a cold".

She shivered, complying with his order, and the warmth of his dimly lit living room immediately encompassed her.

She had only been there once, and her eyes unconsciously drifted around to take everything in. The vast room seemed too large for one person, and contained a sparse amount of furniture, cluttered with copies of forensic journals and books on entomology. Plastered on his walls were the delicate, beautiful butterfly specimens she remembered, the only burst of life in the otherwise characterless room, despite the fact that they were dead.

It felt like a poor imitation of his office, and a place where he existed in limbo, rather than a home. On the other hand, it was how people initially observed Grissom; cold, emotionless and empty. It was only few who knew the brilliant man underneath the outer façade, and even fewer who truly understood the complexities of his character.

She liked to think that she had once been on her way to becoming one of those people, but years of feigned civility and strained friendship had snuffed that dream.

If he noticed her brief appraisal, he didn't say anything, and mutely closed the door, circling around her to stand a safe distance away beside his tall kitchen counter.

Sara swallowed, feeling incredibly pitiful with her damp, messy hair and her clothes plastered to her sides, and allowed her eyes to drift up to his slowly. "Look, I'm sorry I'm bothering you, when I'm probably the last person you want to see right now", she said softly. "But I just wanted to apologise. You didn't deserve to be suspended."

He eyed her impassively. "You didn't do anything, Sara", he said tiredly. "It was my decision to hide our connection".

She glanced down, frowning a little. "Grissom… it's my fault you had to hide it in the first place", she said quietly. "If I didn't make that mistake…"

"He tried to attack you", he said, with a sudden burst of annoyance.

She glanced up at him, taken aback. "I know, but I didn't exactly discourage him…"

"Sara…" He sighed in deep exasperation, searching for words. "Alex isn't used to women rejecting him. I saw the scratch in the side of his car. I knew it would happen sooner or later, I just never thought… it would be someone I… knew."

Sara said nothing, dripping in the middle of his carpet, and felt a deep shiver run through her frame.

He noticed her tremble, and straightened from the bench. "Wait here", he said, sighing, and disappeared down the hall.

Sara frowned, perplexed as he left, and he returned a moment later with a soft, blue towel held out before him.

She accepted it in surprise, touched by his thoughtfulness, immediately wrapping it over her shoulders and huddling against its warmth. "Thanks…"

He nodded mutely, watching her with an odd, unreadable expression on his face. She swallowed, distinctly uncomfortable under his sudden scrutiny, aware of the fact that the distance between them was much shorter than before.

"Catherine's taking over the investigation", she spoke up nervously, as a way to fill the silence if nothing else. "Warrick's covering our shift".

A sudden, pained expression overtook Grissom's features, and he eyed her with worry. "Sara… there's something I didn't tell you that I… I should have", he started hesitantly. "But we were distracted by the case".

She folded her arms, clutching the towel tightly around her frame. "Okay…"

He hesitated. "Catherine's going on leave in a few weeks. Ecklie wanted you to take over as supervisor of her shift."

Sara's mouth fell open in surprise, and she stared at him disbelievingly. "Are you… kidding?"

"No, actually, I'm not".

Sara frowned at him, shrewdly picking up on the fact that he was standing uncomfortably. He possessed a level of outer comfort in his home that was noticeably absent around the lab, but her presence and this rapid shift in conversation were obviously putting him ill at ease. There was a reason. "Why do I think that's not really the end of it?" she asked evenly.

Grissom released a heavy sigh. "After today… Ecklie retracted his request", he admitted slowly.

She clenched her jaw, scoffing disbelievingly as she considered the implications of what he was saying. "It's because of our involvement in the case, isn't it?" she finished flatly.

She had worried their conflict of interest would risk his career; she had just never considered that he would knowingly compromise _hers_.

She stepped away from him, fierce brown eyes leveling on his with a sudden ferocious defensiveness. "You knew about this when you decided we could stay on the case", she realised. "I told you we couldn't ignore our involvement, but you decided anyway! You… you… _God_. You know Ecklie is just waiting for me to screw up again, how is this going to look _now_?"

Grissom looked surprisingly indignant. "I didn't want to tell you because I was worried about his motives, Sara. In case you haven't noticed, they rarely turn out well for anybody except himself."

She laughed, a short, humourless sound, and dragged the towel roughly away from her shoulders, holding it limply in her hands. "Right, so you were trying to _protect_ me, is that it? In case you haven't noticed, I am capable of taking care of myself, Grissom".

He pursed his lips tightly. "Are you?" he muttered flatly.

Sara blinked at him. "Excuse me?" she hissed, shoulders stiffening.

Grissom scowled, but she could see he was ready to back away from this conversation now. "Forget it, Sara…"

"No!" she said, uncharacteristically loudly, glaring at him furiously, feeling an eruption threatening under the surface. "I've got news for you, Grissom. Just because I tell you a little bit about my family does not mean you _know_ me. You know nothing about me, and that's _your_ choice, remember?"

He flinched slightly at her pointed barb, and she scoffed, hurling the towel at his hands. "Stop telling yourself you're protecting me because you can't face up to the truth".

As soon as she said it, she felt oddly liberated. It felt good. It felt really good. She was sick and tired of dancing around the obvious with him. The increasing intensity of their sexual tension was so high now it was affecting the people around them, and their professional relationship, and now, the fate of their jobs.

Grissom looked like she had just slapped him. "What?"

She scoffed, turning to stalk to the door. "Just… figure it out, Grissom".

She was about to pull open the door when his palm rested violently over the wood, slamming it shut again and incidentally blocking her between himself and the door. Sara turned around, heart hammering in her chest as she stared at him, surprised at the sudden, unmasked intensity in his gaze. He knew what she was talking about. They both knew he did.

"What are you doing, Grissom?" she asked, brown eyes fixing uncertainly on his. The distance between them was buzzing with unrestrained tension, and she swallowed, feeling the warmth of his frame.

He looked lost. Almost like she had broken him with her words, and somewhere in the back of her mind, she was vaguely afraid of what he would do.

She had cut to the core of his very self-denial, and it had changed something in him. Something vital.

His eyes flittered unsteadily over hers, and she swallowed convulsively, feeling her back press into the hard wood. His palm remained pressed to the frame of the door, but she didn't move, or attempt to force her way past him.

This new side of him was, admittedly, thrilling, as much as it was worrying. She wondered nowif maybe she had gone too far. If maybe she should have stayed silent, allowed him to maintain his continual fantasy. Allowed him to think that he was acting for her own good, because really, that was all he had, wasn't it?

His fingers slowly lifted, curving around the base of her cheek, and she shivered, surprised as his touch scorched her skin.

"You don't understand me as well as you think you do, Sara", he said softly, focusing on her cheek.

Sara closed her eyes, letting out a ragged breath as he caressed the side of her face. She knew what he was doing. He was trying to prove something, not to her, but to himself. She didn't want to be his guinea pig.

She opened her eyes. "Grissom…"

He shook his head, firmly. "I want you, Sara… I've known that ever since I met you. Do you really think changing things would make our situation better?"

She held her breath, disbelieving that he would admit to something so bluntly.

"It's never mattered what I think", she whispered seriously.

His eyes searched her face, and after a long, drawn out moment, he slowly, painfully pulled away.

Even as she felt relieved by the break of tension, her body moaned in protest. He was staring at her, as if she were to blame for his sudden, brief lapse of control, and she looked away.

The sound of the rain had stopped on the ceiling, and silently, without bothering to look his way, she pulled open the door, and disappeared outside, into the sunrise.

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	9. Cause and Effect 9

**Cause and Effect: Chapter nine**

Catherine shielded her eyes with the back of her hand as they stepped out into the dazzling sun, following Detective Vartann as he strode briskly up the stairs of the UNLV science department building.

He had barely given her a reaction when she told him Gil's team was off the case, and she guessed he had seen it coming too. He wasn't a member of the force she regularly fraternised with, but she knew he was a nice guy, and he had had the good grace not to make a fuss about it.

Her eyes briefly took in the interior, taking in the students who milled around the place, moving between lectures or staff offices. She remembered from her own time at college the professors generally held an 'open door' policy, which explained Alex's claim that people regularly sought out this Professor Turpin after his lectures.

Vartann paused in the hall outside a frosted glass door, gesturing his head forward lightly. "I'm guessing this is him?"

She nodded, immediately pushing open the door. It bothered some men when she took charge so brazenly, but Vartann took it all in his stride and hung back, allowing her to enter first.

Fred Turpin, a weaselly, timid looking man, sat hunched behind his towering oak desk, almost buried under a mound of papers. She thought it was what Grissom's office might look like, if he weren't under constant pressure by all of his colleagues to finish things.

"Excuse me", she said, tapping, as a courtesy, lightly on the wood frame.

He glanced up, blinking slowly as he came out of his own fog to reality. She gave him the charming, silky smile she had perfected to stoke the egos of self-conscious men in her stripper days. "Hi, I'm Catherine Willows from the crime lab, and this is Detective Vartann from the Las Vegas Police Department. We were wondering if we might be able to ask you a few questions".

He shifted, looking slightly uneasy. "I already spoke to your people. I answered all of your questions".

She smiled in what she hoped was a conciliatory manner, striding further into the room. "I realise that. We're very sorry for the inconvenience. We just have a few follow-up questions. It shouldn't take long".

Turpin reluctantly lowered his pen, giving her his attention. He gestured to two seats in front of his desk. "If it helps with the case, then I'll try my best."

Catherine nodded her thanks, taking a chair. Detective Vartann sat beside her, remaining silent and allowing her to take the lead.

"We spoke to Professor Townsend recently, about his whereabouts the morning of Audrey's murder. He claims he had a meeting with you that day, to go over some lecture notes. Is that true?"

Turpin furrowed his brow, as if attempting to accurately recollect the morning in question. He licked his lips absently. "Let me see. Well, I did have several students come and see me that morning. Those meetings lasted quite a while." He hesitated, as if realising the implications his next words might have. "I, uh, I don't recall a meeting with Alex", he admitted unwillingly. "But it-it was a fairly busy time".

Catherine and Detective Vartann exchanged a fleeting, pointed glance. So Townsend was lying. They had just effectively eliminated his only other alibi.

"Did you see him at all that morning? Before his lecture?" Vartann prompted.

Turpin shifted awkwardly. "Uh, I don't believe I… I was in my office most of the morning."

Catherine felt a grim smile tug at the corner of her lips, and slid her arms slowly over the armrests of the chair, pulling herself to her feet. "Thank you, Mr. Turpin. You've been very helpful".

"W-wait!" he called, rising behind his desk.

Catherine and Vartann glanced around in surprise, Catherine slanting a doubtful eyebrow.

"Yes?" she prompted carefully.

He nervously wrung his hands at his front, eyes darting between the two of them with no small degree of concern. "You aren't, uh, going to tell Alex about this, are you? That I told you?"

Catherine frowned, eyeing Vartann disbelievingly. "We have to go where the evidence takes us, Mr. Turpin. I'm sorry, we can't really make any promises."

He persisted. "But Alex… he could destroy my career. My-my reputation in the forensics community would be ruined!"

Catherine folded her arms over her chest, equally impatient and dubious over this quivering older man. "Mr. Turpin… If Alex is found guilty, the only person he'll have ruined is himself".

Why she was reassuring this man, she didn't know. Unfortunately, even in such a happy-go-lucky town as Vegas, professional self-preservation was inescapable.

Detective Vartann decided to end their visit. "Thank you for your time".

He shot Catherine a disbelievingly look as they departed his office, steering around several waiting students in the hallway. "Can you believe that guy?"

Catherine shrugged, shuffling around in her pocket for her cellphone. "He's worried about his job. We've all been there."

"Yeah, well, a girl is dead; I think that should take some priority".

She sighed tiredly, lifting the ringing phone to her ear as she finished dialling the familiar number. "Hey, you're preaching to the choir here."

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Sofia crouched on the carpet, attempting to visualise the scene as the others would have found it. She was the first to admit that she loathed coming in on a case when it was half-done, especially when it was due to office politics over absolute necessity. Ever since Conrad Ecklie was appointed assistant director, that seemed to be happening quite frequently.

"Victim and suspect hairs were found on the bed", she muttered aloud to herself, hesitating on her haunches below the stripped mattress. The sheets had been taken back to the lab for processing, but so far, they had been unable to locate any traces of semen.

She frowned, back peddling a moment, striding to the doorway of the tiny, tacky ensuite bathroom.

If the suspect was so meticulous about hiding traces of himself in the room, then it was doubtful he would have deposited the condom in the toilet or trashcan. But killers acting in random moments of passion were known to slip up before. If Alex Townsend was the killer, and he met Audrey at the motel for a set rendezvous, it was doubtful he pre-meditated the crime. However, if the murderer was another culprit…

She strode through the door, wandering slowly around the back of the motel rooms, into a narrow alleyway running behind them.

As she had predicted, a large, overflowing dumpster was shoved to the end of the dead-end passage. She immediately slid off her jacket, having already donned her coveralls, and heaved both arms on either side of the bin, swinging herself inside.

If the overflowing mountain of garbage was any indication, it obviously hadn't been emptied for several days, weeks possibly.

Tying her long blonde hair back in a thin, neat ponytail, she bent, sifting carefully through everything.

She was too new to the team to question the case reassignments, and she liked Grissom enough to feel indignant over his suspension. Though she had worked on the dayshift since entering the lab, the nightshift rumour mill had still extended its reach easily to her ears.

Now that she was in the thick of things, however, she was astonished by the amount of personal business these people could bring into the workplace. She could admit she was attracted to Grissom, and openly flirted with him on numerous occasions, but she didn't let it affect her work.

Whatever this thing was going on between Grissom and Sara, it was causing them both to slip up, and despite her best efforts, she was starting to see her own interest in him as fruitless.

Sofia stopped her work as her gloved hands closed on something rough and stiff. Slowly lowering her eyes, she lifted the offending garment in mid-air, blowing out a deep huff of surprise. Either she had found damning evidence in yet another Vegas crime, or their killer had just gotten very sloppy.

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"So. I hear you've gone and got yourself kicked off the job."

Grissom scowled, glaring openly at Jim Brass as he uttered this point-blank statement, barely giving him a chance to speak as he opened the door. The detective lifted his eyebrows, wry, derisive features fixed pointedly on his friend, forcing him to step aside as he invited himself in.

"I was suspended, Jim. Not fired", Grissom reminded him edgily, running a hand tiredly over his eyes.

Brass shrugged dismissively, turning to Grissom as he closed the door behind him. He had scarcely gotten any sleep since Sara left his townhouse that morning, and he was not in the mood for company now.

"I thought you learned the last time you got yourself in this situation", Brass said sternly.

Grissom concealed a grimace, involuntarily reminded of his prior suspension four years ago, after the strip strangler case.

He crossed the vast living room, finding a place behind the massive breakfast bar. He retrieved a bottle of scotch from under the cabinet, preparing to pour himself a glass to give his hands something to do.

Brass cocked an eyebrow, coming to rest on the other side of the counter, leaning his burly arms on the back of a stool.

"So. The rumour mill is buzzing about this one. I'm curious myself".

Grissom shot him an irritable look, annoyed with his misplaced concern. "I'm not going to incite office gossip, Jim".

Brass rolled his eyes, impatiently waving away the glass Grissom offered him. "You know just as well as I do whatever you say here stays between us. I'm asking this out of concern, Gil. And not just for you."

This was said pointedly, and Grissom clenched his jaw, having no doubt Brass was referring to Sara. He knew he had a particular fondness for the younger brunette, and he wondered if it was because she reminded him of his own daughter. He then wondered what Brass would say, if he knew what had transpired between he and Sara just a few hours earlier.

"Look, Jim, I'm really not in the mood to discuss this—"

"Catherine told me you and Townsend go back", he interrupted, ignoring his protests. "I think I even might remember you mentioning him, at one point."

Grissom sighed in resignation, leaning back against his cabinets as he nursed his drink in one hand. "It wasn't my intention, to compromise the case".

Brass scoffed, shooting him a look. "You think you need to tell _me_? You're too damn ethical for that. I know there's something else behind it."

Grissom glanced down, swirling the amber liquid distantly in his glass. "It's complicated, Jim".

"I'll bet", the detective retorted flatly. "Have anything to do with a certain Sara Sidle?"

Grissom blinked, staring at him stupidly. Brass rolled his eyes at his friend's ignorance. "Oh, please. I wasn't born yesterday. Something happened, either between her and him, or between her and you. I'm guessing the former, because like I said, you're too ethical for your own good. Everyone with half a brain knows you and Sara were never involved".

Grissom stared at the floor. "Ecklie doesn't think so".

Brass scowled. "Ecklie's an asshole, and you've said it yourself. He doesn't have an analytical bone in his body. You gave him a doubt, and he ran with it. You shouldn't have given him that much power in the first place."

Grissom pursed his lips, feeling unwillingly compelled to confide in his long-time friend. Catherine was nosy because she knew far too much about his feelings for Sara, more than he himself wanted to know. Brass was aware of the situation, but he was a mildly more impartial party, and he was another male. He wasn't going to force Grissom to talk about his 'feelings'.

"It's… a long story, Jim", he conceded at last, grudgingly meeting the other man's gaze.

Brass lowered himself unceremoniously onto the nearest stool, folding his arms expectantly. "Do I look like I'm going anywhere to you?"

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_San Francisco, 1994_

Sara switched with one of her colleagues for another day-off to attend Grissom's morning lectures, and if they questioned Sara Sidle's sudden shift in work ethic, they didn't say anything.

She listened with keen attentiveness, posing questions with equal fervour. Other students eyed her ease with the subject matter with more than a little envy, and by the end of the session she had made several enemies by shooting down a mass of theories.

She glimpsed Grissom's gaze in the corner of her eye as she ripped into a particularly flawed upper-classman's theory on estimating time of death, and had to convince herself the admiration she saw there was for her as a student only. The burgeoning reality was that Grissom was leaving San Francisco in two days, and their friendship or relationship or whatever it was had no conceivable future. In any way she might have envisioned it.

At the end of the lecture, she decided to immediately begin distancing herself from Grissom, and strode out into the bright midday sunlight, intent on purchasing herself some lunch from the student cafeteria and enjoying the day. Because she had managed just fine without Gil Grissom in her life, and she sure as hell wasn't going to change now.

She accepted her salad roll from the cashier with a friendly smile, and strode out into the quad, finding a quiet, solitary spot on a park bench under a tree, where she could observe others as they sat around the sprawling lawns.

A group of heftily built guys tossed around Frisbee, and several small groups and couples lounged lazily on the grass, enjoying the sun. She felt a wistful smile tug at her lips as her eyes trailed over them, leaning back on the bench. In high school, she had studied too hard to ever have time for socialising, but when she reached college, she found her niche. She found a group of similar intellectually like-minded people, who weren't afraid to cut loose once in a while. They were probably the few years of her life she could look back on with unadulterated fondness.

"Hello Sara".

She blinked, glancing up, unconsciously shielding her eyes with her hand to identify the silhouetted figure hovering over her. She looked away again when she realised it was Alex Townsend.

"I think you should stay away from me", she muttered in a low voice. "If you value your job at all".

Alex stood in her line of sight, effectively blocking the sun, folding his arms calmly as if they were having nothing more than a casual conversation. "Aren't you just the little girl who cried wolf?"

"Excuse me", Sara said irritably, rewrapping her half-eaten sandwich. "I didn't cry anything".

"Not yet, no", Alex agreed. "Look, Sara, allow me to be candid with you. I'm concerned. Concerned about how much you're exaggerating the other night. It was a simple misunderstanding".

"You tried to attack me", Sara snapped, rising to her feet and slinging her bag over her shoulder. "And I'm pretty sure I didn't imagine giving you a black eye".

Alex's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. "You must admit, it was a natural assumption. You do have an _unusual_ comfort level with other members of staff".

Sara stared at him, long and hard, before turning to walk away.

He barely missed a beat, following swiftly after her.

"I'd advise you to stay away from Dr. Grissom, Sara", he said seriously, briskly keeping the pace. "He's an excellent criminalist, but he is a little, shall we say _green_ in other areas. You shouldn't take advantage of that".

Sara stopped, turning to glare disbelievingly at him before tossing her wasted meal roughly in a nearby trashcan. "Are you suggesting I'm manipulating him?"

He shrugged. "It's been done before. An unconventional association with a student could compromise his career. As would any… allegations you might choose to make".

Sara opened her mouth in fury. "Are you _threatening_ me?"

"Not at all", he responded smoothly, arms linked in front of him. "I'm merely reminding you of the implications your actions could have on others, Sara. Maybe you should think about that, before you act… rashly".

Sara knew what he was saying. If she pressed charges against him for assault, he would suggest something inappropriate had occurred between her and Grissom. Not only would it cast her accusations in doubt, it would ruin Grissom's credibility.

She clenched her jaw. "You're disgusting, Alex".

"Please, Sara", he said reproachfully, straightening the impeccable line of his suit. "You should really call me Professor Townsend".

Sara could not believe she had ever fallen for this deceivingly charming man's act. She sneered at him distastefully, thrusting a finger at him in mid-air.

"Well, with all due respect, _Professor_ _Townsend_", she spat with revulsion. "You can go to hell".

She whirled, brown curls scattering around her shoulders, intending to stalk away. His grasp tightened around her wrist, abruptly turning her back to face him.

"_Hey_", he said, voice low and menacing. Few students paid them any attention, and his body almost completely shielded the clench he had on her arm. "I'm not playing games with you, Sara. I can make life… _very_ miserable for you".

The unhindered glimmer of fury in his eyes made her insides twist, but she wasn't for one moment about to allow him to see that his coercion intimidated her.

"Get _off_ me!" she hissed fiercely.

"Alex, let go of her", a male voice snapped, startling them both.

Alex dropped Sara's wrist as soon as Grissom neared, eyes flitting between them angrily.

"This is nothing to concern yourself with, Gil. We're just having a minor misunderstanding".

Grissom's eyes didn't avert from the professor's, dark and icy in their sudden intensity. "I think it's time you left, Alex".

Alex's gaze slid nonchalantly over him, and he slowly nodded his head. "Hmm. I see you didn't take my advice, Gil".

Sara frowned, unconsciously rubbing her wrist as she took a step away from Alex.

Grissom merely pursed his lips, face expressionless. "No. I didn't".

Alex smirked, a humourless motion, and Sara knew in that moment that loyalties were permanently re-shifted, and whatever lasting friendship remained between these two men was most definitely gone. And she was the cause of it.

"Well", he said glibly, stepping calmly away. "She's all yours".

Alex strode idly back onto the sidewalk, disappearing around the tall, multi-layered garden display. Sara and Grissom were left to awkwardly stare at each other, Alex's words echoing as a harsh, unwilling portent in their minds.

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	10. Cause and Effect 10

**A.N. **Sorry for the looooooong wait between updates. I promise I will attempt to finish this in the next few days. I know several people have pointed out inconsistencies in the plot—such as the fact that if Sara was not a student at Berkeley then her relationship with Grissom was technically not inappropriate—and I'm going to have to ask you to just overlook those plot holes. I wasn't entirely sure about the ethics surrounding that whole situation, so I just took it on a limb, and I apologise if it makes the events a tad unrealistic. The criticism helps me learn though, so thanks for pointing it out to me.

Anyway, I just want to thank you all for the positive feedback, because it really is what keeps me going. I'd like to know if you are all still interested in this story, so please, let me know.

**Cause and Effect: Chapter ten**

_Las Vegas, 2005_

Alex reclined in the hard metal chair, watching casually as Catherine and Detective Vartann seated themselves across from him in the bright interrogation room.

Unlike most potential suspects, he was calm, exceeding an air of limitless patience. It was an assurance few felt confident to possess within these walls, like it was an unspoken mark of guilt.

He tilted an eyebrow, scanning Catherine with distinct curiosity. It was the gaze of a man well acquainted with his own sexuality, the kind she had once sought after with a naïve thrill. When he spoke his voice was low and smooth, like he had the ability to seduce her with its lull. "Hello. I don't believe we've met".

Catherine resisted a scowl, keeping her countenance carefully professional. "Catherine Willows."

A smile tugged at his lips. "Catherine. Yes, I remember Gil mentioning you a few times. Still married?"

Catherine pursed her lips, taken aback by his familiarity. "No."

"We have some more questions to ask you", Vartann interrupted, eyes drifting askance at Catherine.

Alex nodded. "I see. I was under the impression Gil and Sara were the CSIs on this case. I take it they've been removed? For what reason?"

He was goading them without a care for what they could do to him in their interrogation, and she could see he was enjoying it. He mentioned Gil and Sara with such casual indifference she unwillingly wondered what his role had been in their lives. It was a question she had not allowed herself to consider until they were face to face.

Faced with him, she had no doubt he could have seduced her when she was younger, and inexperienced with men. But she had always been wilier than Sara, and she knew her own past experiences and the influence of her mother had shaped her sharp acuity when it came to the opposite sex. She had no doubt a young, green Sara would have been much more easily susceptible to his charms. Had he seduced her, where Grissom had clearly fallen short? She inwardly had to question the moral compass of her colleague, and found the conclusion admittedly unlikely.

"You said you had a meeting with Fred Turpin the morning of Audrey's murder", she said curtly, narrowing her eyes. "He claims he doesn't remember seeing you. We have no other accounts of you being on campus until your lecture. Can you explain that?"

Alex remained unperturbed, shrugging idly. "Well, I'm telling you that I met with Turpin that morning. In fact, I remember it all too well, because he was late and I had to wait behind several students before I could see him."

Catherine leant back in her chair, folding her arms. "Why would he forget something like that?"

Alex actually appeared annoyed. "I can assure you I don't know", he said flatly. "The man has always had it in for me; I wouldn't be surprised if he was using this as an opportunity to indict me. He's next in line to be the chair of the forensic department- before I came along he was almost guaranteed run of the seminar. Why don't you look into that?"

Catherine frowned, glancing at Vartann in the corner of her eye. He looked immovable, but she could tell he was carefully considering Townsend's statement.

A brisk, polite knock on the glass door cut Alex off, and Nick strode cautiously in, folder in hand. He nodded at Catherine, then out into the hall, and she rose to her feet, excusing herself quickly.

She closed the door behind her, turning to him expectantly.

"I got the security tapes from The Palms", he explained, waving the folder smoothly. "Townsend was on them. He arrived at exactly ten fifty-five am, and left at eleven twenty."

Catherine's eyes widened, and she glanced back inside at the professor. "Audrey's time of death was eleven o'clock."

"Are we sure its accurate?" Nick prompted. "I mean, Doc Robbins has made mistakes before…"

Catherine shook her head. "No. She died from blunt force trauma. This is practically ironclad." She blew out a breath. "You're telling me this guy's _innocent_?"

Nick sighed dejectedly. "Well… I think so".

She straightened slightly. She couldn't believe this. In a way, it was good news. If Alex was no longer their suspect, then Grissom's conflict of interest was no longer an issue. He could push for reinstatement.

Nick clearly saw the direction her thoughts were taking, and hesitated, clutching the folder to his torso. "Cath… how did Grissom miss this? Checking the security tapes. It's pretty basic, even for this job."

Catherine shrugged. "Townsend was only named a suspect just before they got pulled from the case. I'm sure he would have run with it. Nicky… Grissom didn't do anything we all haven't been guilty of."

Nick smiled slightly as he accepted her point. "Yeah. I guess he's, uh, human after all".

Catherine returned the smile weakly, turning reluctantly back towards the interrogation room. Seeing this snake's self-satisfied smile when she told him he was free to go was going to be a fun-filled experience she could have done without.

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Taking orders from Warrick wasn't as damaging to her pride as it once might have been, but Sara couldn't help but feel like she was being punished as she strode down the hall of the LVPD building, searching for Brass to update her on her case reassignment.

There was a definite air of tension in the lab, and it was obvious everyone was pondering the reasons she and Grissom had been removed. It was a situation that practically invited hearsay. She sighed, rounding the corner towards the reception desk. After inquiring after Brass, she was informed the captain was in the field, and was expected back in twenty minutes.

She decided to wait out in her car, instead of in the LVPD lobby where she was sure familiar, inquisitive faces would watch her curiously.

Her earlier interaction with Grissom had been… confusing. She had never been as abjectly honest with him as she had been in that moment. And clearly, the reaction she invoked in him had been the most honest he had allowed himself to be with her.

He had nearly kissed her. She wasn't going to be able to forget that. She had never been as physically close to Grissom as she was in that millisecond he allowed himself to invade her personal space, and she couldn't pretend it didn't happen. If this Alex Townsend debacle had done one thing, it was to permanently alter whatever remaining shards were left of their relationship. They weren't friends, or co-workers, and she thought they had finally established that. Whether or not Grissom would actually acknowledge it, was another matter entirely.

She was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn't look up until she had almost collided with someone in the parking lot. Her head whipped up reflexively. Surprise seized her heart when she realised who it was, and she unconsciously took a step to further the distance between them, awkwardly folding her arms.

"G-Grissom", she stammered. "Uh, hi."

Grissom stared back at her in the harsh Nevada sunlight, expression unreadable. He studied her for a moment. "Sara."

She swallowed, wishing she could have waited in the lobby for a few more precious seconds. The only consolation she had allowed herself today was the fact that he wouldn't be at work, and she wouldn't have to face him. Now she was completely unprepared, and her lack of self-confidence was showing.

"What are you doing here?" she managed at last, studying a spot intently on his shoulder.

He shrugged idly. Unlike her, he was completely unruffled, and she cursed him for his composure.

"Catherine called me. She wanted to talk about something. She wouldn't tell me what it was over the phone".

Sara felt a prickling of unease at that revelation. "Oh. I didn't see her inside. She was probably in an interrogation." She shifted under his scrutiny. "I was uh, just waiting for Brass to get back from a scene", she added hastily.

"You don't have to explain yourself to me, Sara", he said quietly. "I'm not your supervisor anymore, remember?"

"Right". She looked away, incredibly uncomfortable at this frank reminder.

A panoply of emotions crossed Grissom features. He drew in a breath. "Sara—"

"Hey, there you are", a familiar, amiable voice proclaimed across the parking lot.

Sara and Grissom both glanced around as Brass disembarked from his cruiser, awkwardness resurfacing anew now they had been caught out together.

"Hi, Brass", Sara murmured, faint, wan smile on her lips.

Grissom didn't even bother to muster that much effort, and Jim's gaze darted between them, instantly sensing the electric tension. She was sure he had been about to utter a significant admission, and she cursed the detective for his interruption. Then again, he could have just as easily been about to comment on the weather.

"Jim", the entomologist acknowledged, looking down somewhere at his feet.

Brass nodded in response, eyes latching onto Sara a moment longer than necessary.

She narrowed her eyes imperceptibly. It was obvious almost immediately that he knew something. For some reason, the realisation made her irritated. She had considered making a confession to Greg on the Townsend issue, but had resisted without Grissom's approval. Obviously, he didn't feel the need for the same clarification.

"We should probably get to briefing", the homicide detective spoke up in his slow, easy drawl, sensing the discomfort in the air.

Sara nodded, feeling stifled between the two men, unable to thank him for that sensitivity. "Yeah. Sure".

She turned, not caring that she had not yet concluded her conversation with Grissom, desperate to escape his unreadable acuity and hide in the comfort and warmth of Brass's office.

However the path to her destination was blocked by the infinitely charismatic figure of the person who had reawakened the past so vividly in the last few days. A figure she had dimly associated in her mind with the literary Dickens character of Steerforth. Physically charming and handsome, but ultimately deceiving. Always deceiving.

"Sara", Alex uttered steadily, dipping his head to fix her with his twinkling brown eyes. "It's always a distinct pleasure."

She swallowed, noting a movement of blonde behind him, eyes remaining fixated unwillingly on the professor's. It was the first time she had been confronted with him since the night they discovered his involvement with the victim. He was svelte and fake and just as intimidating as he had been when she was in San Francisco. Catherine emerged from the building in his wake, coming to an uncertain halt, eyes trailing over them all uneasily when she realised the predicament she had inadvertently created.

"I suppose you'll be glad to hear", Alex announced levelly, relishing the sudden increase of tension in the air, "that I've been cleared of all charges." He scoffed sardonically. "Although I can't say I would believe you did anything to assist that".

"Mr. Townsend—" Catherine tried unsuccessfully.

He turned to look humourlessly at Grissom and, less interestedly, at Brass. "It's always nice to know that the police department are doing their jobs correctly. It certainly inspires a sense of security, does it not?"

"I think we're done here, pal", Brass spoke up smoothly, distaste colouring his tone.

Townsend merely lifted a superior eyebrow, ignoring the captain's hostility. "No, I don't think we are", he said tartly. "In fact, I believe I'll be taking up a complaint with your superiors about the permanent blemish you've caused to my reputation. A public apology wouldn't be too much to ask".

Sara narrowed her eyes. "If you really think—"

"A-Ah", Alex snapped reproachfully. "Don't add gas to the flames, Ms. Sidle. Your situation is, I'm more than sure, precarious enough as it is. A personal involvement with a suspect. What would the department think? Do you think this won't look like your opinion was biased? Do they know about your involvement? Because I would have thought removal from the case would be a fairly petty punishment for such a."

"Back off, Alex", Grissom said quietly, voice low and threatening. He had unconsciously stepped closer to Sara's side, and eyed his ex-colleague dangerously.

Catherine blinked, standing by like a spectator to a train wreck as she witnessed the confrontation taking place before her. She took in Grissom's protective stance uncertainly.

Sara glared openly at Alex, not backing down. "And if you ask me, you only deserve what you get. You abuse your power and you shouldn't even _have_ a reputation."

Alex smirked grimly, spite flashing behind his dark brown eyes. "I don't think you should be talking to me about inappropriate conduct, _Sara_", he said. "Let me ask you, how _did_ you get your job here?"

Catherine winced. Grissom stiffened. Brass looked like he wanted to be anywhere but where he was.

"The Las Vegas crime lab is one of the most competitive in the country," he continued, smirking. "What tells me it wasn't on merit?" He chuckled as Sara's eyes widened disbelievingly. "Maybe a prior relationship had something to do with it?"

Brass also stepped forward, holding up his hands. "Okay, I think that's just about enough."

Alex barely wavered. "Now I'm no expert, but I believe that might be a bit unethical. Sleeping one's way to the top usually is".

Grissom hit him.

His knuckles grazed Alex's face with such force the man toppled back on the ground, and the movement was so swift and unexpected; it took all of them several moments to react. Catherine's mouth opened in a silent 'O' of astonishment. Sara stared down at Alex as he crumpled on the ground in blind shock.

Brass moved forward half-heartedly to intercept him, but a small, oddly delighted smirk tugged at his lips.

"You… you _HIT_ me!" Alex exploded, roughly swiping away Brass's arm as he reluctantly leant over to help him up.

Grissom stood back, strangely unaffected, staring at the professor with detached indifference. "Yes. I did".

Alex's usually carefully maintained composure crumpled, and the depth of rage behind his gaze was startling as he jabbed a furious index finger in Grissom's direction. "You're all witnesses to this. Expect to hear from my lawyer. I'm filing an harassment charge!"

"Maybe you should rethink that", Brass spoke up, glaring at him with unconcealed disdain. "Because I think what you said to Sara just now could very easily be construed as sexual harassment. And we're all witnesses to _that_."

Alex bristled, straightening his suit, but they could see they had him.

"I hope she's worth it, Gil", he hissed, as he started past, attempting to regain what was left of his dignity. "That's all I can say".

"Well. Gil", Catherine commented feebly, as Alex disappeared into the lot. "I didn't know you had it in you".

"Well, the situation certainly merited it", Grissom muttered, glancing at Sara, who studiously avoided his eyes.

"Agreed", Brass said curtly. "And now I think it would be a _very_ good idea if this little incident stayed between the four of us, and never got mentioned again. Yeah?"

"No arguments here", Catherine murmured, hoisting her bag on her arm.

Grissom nodded, and Sara muttered something incomprehensible under her breath, which Brass took as a sign of concurrence.

"Good", he said abruptly. "Then Sara, let's go to my office. Gil, Catherine, see you later tonight".

Sara followed mutely after the homicide captain, face expressionless and eyes downcast.

Catherine didn't say anything as she watched Grissom stare after her, only shaking her head in grim resignation.

After a while, she decided it was appropriate to speak again.

"Gil… that little display was not a good way to tell Sara you care about her".

Grissom's gaze snapped to hers, and he held it for a long moment.

"Excuse me?"

She rolled her eyes at his feigned ignorance. "Please. Don't be stupid. After that you can't pretend anything."

"Did you call me here for a reason?" he asked snappishly, an increasing edge of annoyance colouring his voice. "Besides an unwarranted encounter from the one person I shouldn't have any contact with if I want to keep my professionalism intact".

"You're not kidding about that", she muttered deprecatingly.

He shot her an impatient look. "I wanted to tell you that I took care of Conrad", she said tiredly. "Since, as you know, Townsend is no longer our suspect. Your credibility has been cleared. The suspension is nullified. You have your job back."

Grissom squinted at her in slight disbelief. "What did you do, twist his arm?"

She smiled vaguely. "Something like that".

He frowned. "Well, I appreciate it, Catherine. Really".

"I know". She touched him lightly on the arm, ready to head back to the lab for another follow up with Nick and Sofia. It had been a really long shift. She paused on her way, glancing back at Grissom briefly.

"Gil? You really need to learn to harness your enthusiasm into something more… worthwhile. That punch you landed Townsend nearly had him in the hospital". It was the closest she was going to get to ever offering Gil Grissom sex advice, and-- she inwardly vowed— the _last_ time she was going to nudge him towards Sara.

They had their disagreements and she thought the last thing she would ever call the other woman was a friend, but the undercurrent of attraction was getting on her nerves. He'd proven his point. Either he wanted a relationship, or he didn't. This in-between thing they had going on was going to be his undoing.

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Sofia stormed into Catherine's office not five seconds after she had sat down, and for the first time she could remember, she empathised with Grissom for all the times he had tolerated her interruptions implicitly.

"I found a bloody sweater vest in the alley behind the motel", the blonde woman announced in her peculiar tinted accent, waving the bagged evidence in one hand. "The blood belongs to Audrey Fraiser".

Catherine slanted an eyebrow, leaning forward in her chair. "Our killer left something behind? He wasn't careless with anything else".

Sofia shrugged. "My feeling is, he got into a rush. He cleaned the apartment so meticulously; he didn't have time to properly dispose of his clothes. He probably thought we would implicate Townsend so easily he didn't worry about it".

Catherine bobbed her head in agreement. "Okay. So did you find any trace evidence on the sweater?"

Sofia looked grimly excited. "I just left Hodges now. He collected several small hairs from the back of the vest and Mia ran the DNA through AFIS."

"She got a hit?" Catherine asked, surprise in her voice.

Sofia nodded. "Our guy had a minor prior mark on his record. He was arrested in New Jersey in 1998 for public indecency".

"Peeping toms do escalate into rapists", Catherine agreed. "It makes sense. Who's the offender?"

Sofia allowed a small smile to grace her pretty features.

"Professor Fred Turpin".

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Grissom strode into his shadowy office with a vague sense of relief at its comfortingly familiar surroundings, sighing wearily. His townhouse had become stifling and oppressive in its vast impersonal space. He couldn't get his encounter with Sara there out of his mind, and every item of furniture or forensic journal on his bookshelf bore a constant reminder.

He placed his briefcase down on the desk, rounding it idly. A low, dull click sounded behind his head and he glanced around vaguely.

"Don't move", a low voice hissed sternly.

That was when he noticed the gun.

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	11. Cause and Effect 11

**Cause and Effect: Chapter eleven **

_Las Vegas, 2005_

Grissom stared at the familiar figure with an odd level of calm. His oily scalp was slick and shiny with perspiration, and his dull, narrowed eyes fixed on Grissom darkly. His features were long and hawklike and he clutched the revolver in his hand like a vice, directed staunchly at Grissom's head.

It wasn't the first time Grissom had had a gun pointed at his head. However the gunman had the element of surprise in his favour, and Grissom felt a faint flutter of unease well in his gut.

"What are you doing?"

Fred Turpin smiled humourlessly, and the anxiety that Grissom had previously observed in him was somewhat absent. Turpin stepped forward slightly, pale features disengaging from the shadows between the steel shelves. He pursed his lips angrily, and Grissom detected a hint of desperation and panic mingled in his eyes. It did not fill him with confidence.

"I'm disappointed, Dr. Grissom", he spat, voice filled with bitterness. "Don't you know why I'm here?"

Grissom stared at him levelly, elucidation hitting him slowly. "You killed Audrey Fraiser".

A cold, humourless smile tugged at Turpin's lips, and there was not a hint of the stutter in his voice. "That's right. I knew you were an intelligent man. I could tell from the moment I met you. And I'm sorry I have to do this, I really am, because I think I might be able to like you. We have a common enemy, after all. If you'd stayed on the professor like I originally thought you would, we wouldn't have this problem. But you had to keep digging."

"We have no evidence to convict you", Grissom said carefully, remaining rigidly behind his desk.

Turpin shot him an impatient look. "Do you think I would indict myself like this if I didn't know you would figure it out? You're good at what you do. I've followed your career, Dr. Grissom –entomology is an interesting method. I've read your papers-- I've taught in this field for over twenty years. It's probably processing away in your lab right now, isn't it? Only a matter of time until you match my DNA to something that you found, and then its twenty years to life for me."

Grissom stared at him unblinkingly. "You really think this will help?"

Turpin scoffed. "Don't try to placate me. I know exactly what I'm doing. I do. I've thought about this. Tell me, why couldn't you stay on Townsend? Why? It would have been so much easier for all of us. You know what he does is wrong. He abuses his position as a teacher, he exploits those girls. You could have just settled on him, and none of this would have to happen".

Grissom slowly shook his head. "It doesn't work like that, Mr. Turpin", he said grimly.

Before Turpin could make a scathing response, the door to Grissom's office craned open. The blinds were closed on all windows, so passers-by would have no indication that an armed gunman was inside.

Grissom stiffened, and a familiar lulling female voice drifted into the room. For the first time in his life, Grissom knew the meaning of real, absolute fear.

"Grissom, I just ran into Sofia, who told me to tell you they have a suspect in the…"

Sara trailed off as her eyes left the paper in front of her, and darted over Fred Turpin. Turpin glared back at her, reflexively swivelling the gun in her direction.

Grissom swallowed, schooling his features into a look of careful calm. "It's okay, Sara", he reassured quietly. "Just close the door".

Sara hesitated, reluctantly pushing the door back behind her, leaning against it as the loud click resonated in the silence of the room. A folder was held slightly against her chest, and her cocoa-coloured eyes drifted up to his slowly, before returning to Turpin's.

Grissom forced himself to glance away from her, turning to Turpin with no small amount of hesitation. "Please point the gun away from her".

Turpin slowly shook his head. "No. I think it scares you more this way".

Grissom felt his fists clench convulsively behind the safety of his desk, reluctantly admitting that yes, that was definitely true.

"She has nothing to do with this", he said carefully, glaring at Turpin with intensity that Sara found vaguely frightening.

Turpin ignored him. "Miss Sidle. It's nice to meet you again. I'm sorry it's not in… better circumstances."

Sara didn't respond, staring back at him mutely.

"There's no need to hold back on my account", Turpin added. "What has your lab found?"

Sara didn't say anything, glancing at Grissom uncertainly. He nodded almost imperceptibly, and she sighed deeply. "They have a DNA match against you", she reported quietly. "You left some clothing at the scene."

"DNA match", he repeated evenly. He turned to Grissom. "It looks like you have conclusive evidence now".

Grissom pursed his lips. "Mr. Turpin, things don't have to be like this", he said, in another half-hearted attempt to appeal to his rationality.

Sara frowned. "Why did you even come here?" she added. "You could be out of Las Vegas by now. You're in the middle of a law enforcement building. There's nowhere for you to go".

Grissom shot her a warning glance. The last thing they needed to do was provoke him.

Turpin seemed oddly intrigued by her courage. "You're not afraid of me, are you, Miss Sidle?"

Sara didn't respond, pressing her lips in a thin, hard line.

Turpin lifted a brow. "And you're wrong", he added. "As long as I have two hostages, I have a guarantee for my own safety".

"And a guarantee to the death sentence", Sara retorted. "Rape and murder were probably enough for a good long sentence, but you've really done it now".

Turpin merely smirked, glancing at Grissom sideways. "Is she always this argumentative?"

"You have no idea", Grissom muttered, extremely tense.

"Why did you do this?" Sara asked, expression twisted in a genuinely confused frown. He wondered if she was attempting to stall him until someone realised what was going on, or if she was merely curious. Either way, Grissom remained silent, waiting for Turpin's response. He seemed to take some sort of enjoyment in talking to Sara, and with his gun still firmly trained on her head; he would do anything to keep the man mollified.

"You have no idea what its like", Turpin said, tilting his head as his eyes narrowed vaguely. "To have someone so beautiful, so vibrant and full of life, come into a room everyday, speak to you, take your classes, and ignore the way you feel about them".

"I might have some idea", Sara muttered under her breath, and Grissom concealed a wince. Now was _not_ the time to be identifying with the perpetrator.

Turpin went on, seemingly oblivious to her remark. "She had no idea. Or pretended to have no idea. And she gave in completely to Alex Townsend. He took her away so easily; he enjoyed it like it was a game. I couldn't let him have her like that. Not if I couldn't. None of it ever mattered to him. He wouldn't know how to love".

Sara frowned, eyes trailing over to Grissom's in disbelief. As the professor spoke, he could see an idea forming behind her eyes, and he wanted to immediately convince her out of it.

Turpin had his mind focused on the past as he continued his diatribe, and Sara shifted her eyes carefully in his direction, resting on the gun, which had become slightly limp in his hand. Grissom carefully shook his head, locking her eyes pointedly.

_No_, he inwardly hissed.

She widened her eyes insistently. He knew it was possible either of them could struggle with him and succeed; he was well past middle age, and his only real advantage was his weapon. A weapon aimed at _Sara_. Grissom wasn't about to take the risk that it could discharge and hit her. She was perfectly willing to risk her life to get them out of this situation, but he was not. There had to be another way.

As if sensing his inner conflict, Turpin snapped back from his distraction, clutching the gun more fiercely in his grip than before. Sara twitched as it levelled on her head again, and Grissom's throat tightened in fear.

"Tell me something, Dr. Grissom", Turpin said seriously, contemplating Sara's features. "Do you have any idea what its like to love so unconditionally? To be willing to sacrifice yourself for another? I sacrificed my entire life to ensure Audrey would never have to be with another man. So she wouldn't suffer when they rejected her."

"That isn't love", Sara said flatly. "You killed her because she didn't love you. Because you managed to convince yourself you were saving her. That's obsession".

The corner of Turpin's mouth twitched. "It's a fine line between the two, Miss. Sidle."

He clicked off the safety of the gun, and the sound was deafeningly clear in the room. Grissom stiffened. "What are you doing?" he demanded fiercely.

Turpin didn't look at him. "I only need one of you", he said frankly. "And I need someone to set an example for the authorities if they come after me".

Grissom felt his fingers close around the base of his briefcase on his desk, and he tightened his hold quickly.

"Killing an officer is a major offence, Mr Turpin", he warned him carefully. "Think about what you're doing here".

He met Sara's gaze, nodding imperceptibly. He saw some flicker of understanding behind her eyes and knew he had her assent. He couldn't loose her like this. He couldn't loose her without telling her how he felt about her. He realised in an odd moment of clarity how utterly meaningless his years of reservations had been. He should have given in to his feelings for her in San Francisco. He should have accepted her offer of dinner after the lab explosion. He should have told her he had asked her to Vegas because he wanted her there when she told him she moved there for him.

Turpin's finger lowered over the trigger, and Grissom didn't even think. He swung the briefcase up from the desk, slamming it over the back of his head. Sara immediately ducked, and the force of the blow caused the gun to discharge in Turpin's grasp.

Turpin smashed back against the steel shelves, sending jars of Grissom's specimens shattering to the floor. He sprung forward again with surprising agility as Grissom lurched forward, wrestling with him for the gun.

Grissom dug his fingers into Turpin's wrist, struggling to prise free the weapon. Turpin still had his finger near the trigger, and he moved against Grissom's clutch, pointing the weapon at his gut.

"Hey!" Sara yelled, swivelling a jar of fetal pig remains over Turpin's skull. The glass made a sickening impact, and Turpin staggered from the force.

He struggled vainly with Grissom, but his strength was relinquishing. His finger tightened once more over the trigger, and he pulled back the hammer as he stumbled into the wall from Sara's blow.

The sound of the gun echoed in the room, and Grissom heard Sara's surprised cry.

"Grissom!"

Grissom glanced at her stupidly, feeling a sudden sharp pain in his side. Then everything went black, and all was silent.

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_San Francisco, 1994_

"I'm glad we did this".

Grissom glanced at Sara as she strode up the stairs beside him, pulling her jacket more tightly around her slender frame as if from some unseen chill, and he felt a sad smile pull at his lips as they neared her apartment.

His seminar had come to a close, and they had agreed to meet for coffee after as a sort of friendly farewell, which turned into an impromptu dinner at the casual off-campus diner.

Sara seemed more relaxed in his company since the day Townsend threatened her, and he was relieved to discover she hadn't come across the professor again. Obviously, his warning had made its impact.

Tomorrow, he would be on a return flight to Las Vegas, the bright, sinful city he had been separated from for two weeks. The dazzling lights of Vegas had never been what held him there though. It was the lab and everything it represented. It was the first city that felt like home to him.

He glanced at Sara, her attractive, sparking features alight with youth and potential. He had no doubt she was well on her way to becoming a successful criminalist. For the first time, he realised the pull of Vegas was weaker than it usually was. San Francisco had never been a particularly alluring city until he met Sara Sidle.

He sighed; ignoring the direction his thoughts were taking him. It was a dangerous direction.

Sara unlocked the door to her apartment, turning to regard him uncertainly. "Listen, I want to um… thank you, for what you did the other day", she started seriously. "Stepping in and everything. I know it must have been awkward and you didn't have to…"

He held up a hand to silence her. "Knowing the circumstances, I think anyone else would have done the same".

She nodded, and grew silent, and he knew they were both becoming increasingly aware that this was probably the last time they would ever see each other. "Well, I had a good time tonight", he told her gently, smiling lightly.

"Me too", she agreed, glancing down.

"I think this has certainly been a much more interesting visit than my last time in San Francisco."

It was the closest he could come to acknowledging how much their meeting had meant to him, and she smiled slightly.

"Well, I'm glad we got the chance to say goodbye. When does your flight leave for Vegas?"

"At about seven o'clock tomorrow morning", he answered.

"I guess you have to leave pretty early tomorrow morning".

He nodded, smiling grimly. He wondered how he was going to readjust to the nightshift hours when he returned home. "Yes".

She licked her lips, fingers drumming distantly on the doorjamb. "So I guess this is it, huh?"

He felt a sudden burst of reluctance to leave things as they were. "Listen", he said seriously, slowly reaching into his pocket for a piece of paper and a pen. He hastily scrawled down a number, holding it out towards her between his thumb and forefinger. "Here's my phone number in Vegas. Call me anytime. To let me know how you're doing… or if you ever need any help in the job department. We should stay in touch".

A genuine smile lit her features and she accepted the paper from his warm grasp. "You work the nightshift, right?"

"Right", he agreed.

She nodded, pocketing the paper. "I'll keep that in mind then".

Awkward silence infused the air between them. Sara glanced at him, and he knew they were both thinking the same thing.

Sara broke the silence first. "Do you want to come in? For coffee or… anything?"

He wondered at the significance of that last statement. He met her gaze, and knew with sudden startling clarity that if he allowed himself to go in there, things would never end at coffee. He could easily allow himself this final act of passion; give into his mounting desire for the whirlwind of youth and cleverness that was Sara Sidle. But he knew, if he did, he would have difficulty leaving in the morning. He couldn't start something that he had no intention of finishing, and he could never do that to Sara.

"I better not", he replied slowly, turning her down gently, offering a tentative smile to take the sting out of his words. "I have to leave early, and I should probably go back to my hotel and get some rest".

Sara nodded in acceptance, and he saw the unmistakable flicker of disappointment colour her eyes. "Okay".

The thought that he had caused her hurt, however unintentionally, filled him with guilt. He realised that he possessed a strong, overpowering urge to please her, and it was a foreign sensation that worried him. He had had relationships; he dated women, he _slept_ with woman without feeling this underlying need to protect them. Sara awoke some unknown emotion in him whenever he was around her, and some part of him was relieved he was retuning to Vegas in the morning, and putting as much distance between them as possible, because is wasn't something he knew how to deal with.

He held out a hand, and she glanced at him a moment before accepting it, allowing them to shake.

Without considering what he was doing, he titled his head forward, and gently, innocently, brushed a kiss against her cheek. For anyone else, it could be construed as a friendly action, but such an intimate act was foreign to him, and Grissom was glad Sara didn't know him well enough to realise that.

"Goodbye, Sara", he said softly, breath tickling her cheek as he moved away again.

Sara swallowed, staring at him with some unreadable emotion playing for power over her countenance, and she released his hand slowly. "Goodbye, Grissom".

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	12. Cause and Effect Epilogue

**A.N.** It's a bit longer than the rest, but yes, I have finished. Amazing, isn't it? Again, I'd like to thank you all for the positive reviews and all of your criticism. I hope it was all well worth the read, and that it ends the way you all envisioned it.

**Cause and Effect: Epilogue**

_Las Vegas, 2005_

"The Doc said he should be fine. The bullet didn't penetrate any major arteries."

"He looks pale. Should he look that pale?"

"You're making me antsy, Greg. If you're going to jump around like that, do it outside".

Grissom lids felt impossibly heavy as he sluggishly became aware of the diversity of voices around him, forcing themselves to become known in his consciousness. He felt something pinning his arm, and struggled to twitch his fingers, annoyed when he realised the strength to make the simple movement eluded him.

He focused on the lull of voices, working with difficulty to open his eyes. Brightness momentarily assaulted his senses, and he realised with a moment of confusion he was in the stark whiteness of a hospital room, and a glance down at his hand revealed a slender needle injected in his arm, attached to a long, winding drip.

Why am I in the hospital? 

_Turpin. My office. Sara._

_A gun._

_Right_, he thought unhappily. _A gun._

"I was under the impression people were supposed to be quiet in hospitals".

Three faces whipped around to glance at him in surprise, and Catherine immediately lunged forward, wrapping her arms around him.

"Hey!" he said, taken aback by the sudden act of affection, and hissing in pain when she brushed against his wounded side.

Catherine retreated again, expression apologetic as she realised she had caused him pain. "Sorry, Gil. I didn't think about that".

"I noticed", he retorted, but he was oddly touched by her concern and there was no malice in his words.

His gaze took in the other members of the room, an odd assortment of Jim and Greg. The latter looked uncomfortable, but whether it was the setting, or the company, Grissom wasn't sure, and Brass looked grim but pleased to see him alive and well.

"Gil. You gave us quite the scare there".

Greg nodded his agreement. "Yeah, boss; getting shot and all. How's the morphine?"

"Doing its job", Grissom noted dryly. He glanced around, eyes suddenly wide with concern. "Sara. Is she—?"

"She's fine", Catherine assured him quickly. "She gave Turpin quite a beating. He was knocked out right after he shot you".

Greg smirked. "Yeah. She took him out real good".

Grissom felt a weak smile pull at his lips, and didn't allow himself to question her absence. "What happened?"

Catherine sat in the chair beside him, unconsciously straightening the creases in his bedcovers. If the others noticed her sudden maternal concern, they didn't say anything, keeping their smirks carefully hidden.

"Well, by the time you got into a struggle, half the lab knew something was up. We knew Turpin was a suspect, and Detective Vartann and I went out to arrest him, but he was missing from the university."

"Sanders here decided to play hero and run into your office", Brass put in, cocking his thumb derisively at Greg. "He and Sara checked you out and called 911. Turpin was out cold by then."

"He's fine now", Catherine noted. "He only had a mild concussion. He's finding himself nice and settled in the Nevada State Penitentiary. Oh, and get this. He's pleading insanity".

Grissom shifted grimly, moving up into a sitting position against the stiff hospital pillows. "Somehow I think that might be a good idea".

They went silent as they all digested this, and Brass finally cleared his throat. "Well, now that I know you're all fine and dandy, I should get back out there. There's a pile of paperwork waiting on my desk. Enjoy the break while you can, Gil".

"Thanks, Jim".

Brass waved him off, striding out into the corridor with his typical wide saunter. Greg hesitated, noticing Catherine's pointed look, and muttered something about heading back to the lab before following in his wake.

Grissom glanced at Catherine expectantly, noting the palpable tension lining her usually flawless face. It made her look older, and he swallowed, throat strangely dry. "So, how long have I been out, anyway?"

She shrugged, crossing her legs and leaning back in her chair. "About a day. You're fine. The bullet missed your lung by about an inch. They said you could be discharged as early as tomorrow, but they advised you not to return to work for a while. I told them that might be hard to explain to you".

Grissom gave her a wry look. "I suppose I technically wasn't back yet anyway".

Catherine smiled lightly. "True."

She hesitated, playing at the fraying edges of his blanket. "We've all been really worried about you, Gil".

"The doctor told you I was fine".

She shrugged, looking down. "People are irrational when someone they care about his hurt".

She watched him as he mutely accepted this statement. "Like say, Sara, for example", she added slowly. "The girl's been a working coffee-junkie for the last twenty-four hours. She hasn't even left the lab".

Grissom looked away, studying the mounted TV on the opposite wall. "That's hardly unusual behaviour for her, Cath".

Catherine scoffed. "Yeah, well trust me, you haven't seen her. She's really worried about you".

"So worried she hasn't even left work", he muttered, unable to help the petulance from creeping into his voice. He closed his eyes. He'd blame the morphine.

Catherine sighed. "Her way of coping is to work, Gil. We all deal with things differently. Work is safe to her. Right now, she needs that."

He shifted, feeling tiredness overtake him. "Yeah".

Catherine noticed his heavy lids, and immediately rose to her feet. "Okay. Well, I'm going to let you get some rest. If the doctors say its okay, I'll come and get you tomorrow".

Grissom nodded in gratitude, already closing his eyes. "Thanks, Cath".

She watched him for a moment longer, finally allowing the relief to wash over her. "Sure", she murmured, watching as his breathing became slow and rhythmic in an uncharacteristic sign of vulnerability. "Anytime".

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When Grissom woke again, he was alone in the room. _No_, he realised slowly, as he became aware of a dim shadowy presence hovering silently in the corner, _not completely alone._

For a moment, he wondered if it was perhaps Sara, but the figure was too tall. As his eyes focused, the figure made himself more known, stepping into the dim light filtering in from the windows, coming to a halt mere inches from the foot of Grissom's bed.

"Hello, Gil", the voice said quietly, with a monotonous vacancy Grissom found disconcerting.

Gil swallowed, licking his lips, struggling to overcome the dryness in his throat as he eyed the man with unhidden suspicion. "What are you doing here?"

Alex shrugged, examining the wall above Grissom's headboard with an unusual amount of fascination, clasping his hands casually in front of him.

"I heard about what happened on the news. It wasn't something I could just pass up".

Grissom rolled his eyes, ignoring the rasp in his throat as he spoke. "So you came to gloat, you mean?" he guessed irritably. "Save it, Alex. You're innocent, and the lab proved that. Just get on with your life".

"I'm wondering", Alex observed slowly, striding to the side of Grissom's bed, resting his hands idly on the back of the hard plastic chair, "if you're taking your own advice, Gil?"

Grissom closed his eyes, wondering if he could block the pompous man's voice out. "I don't know what you mean".

Alex scoffed. "Of course you do. I saw you at the police department. It's ten years later, and you still haven't moved forward. You're stuck in the same cowardly rut as before, and Sara's still clinging on by a thread."

"You don't know anything about us, Alex", he said quietly. "So don't pretend to".

Alex shrugged, unperturbed. "I know enough. I know, despite what I said to the contrary, that Sara wants more from you, more than you're prepared to give her. She's a beautiful, intelligent woman, Gil. Why wouldn't you risk everything for that?"

"That's the difference between us", Grissom muttered. "I'm not prepared to risk my job over every woman I meet."

Alex chuckled. "I think you envy me, a little. I have a self-assurance you have never had. I have the elucidation to realise that a career is _just_ a career. It's not what we were put on this earth for. Your job doesn't keep you warm at night, Gil. It doesn't love you". He shrugged. "I'm willing to give into the pleasures of the flesh, and that bothers you, doesn't it? That you can't give yourself that liberation. With Sara… with any other woman".

"You weren't saying that when you were so worried about your reputation", Grissom said deprecatingly.

Alex smirked. "No, but that's another matter entirely. If I loved her

I wouldn't even question it. I wouldn't even think about the consequences."

Grissom allowed his gaze to drift up to Alex's, full of mingled pity and distaste for a man who had such potential, and who let his lack of integrity ruin him. "You're not capable of love".

Alex smiled, a thin, humourless gesture that didn't quite reach the dullness in his eyes. "Maybe not. Maybe we're alike, after all".

Without waiting to see if Grissom would have a response to that, he backed out of the room, leaving the door open behind him.

Grissom stared dully at the shards of light spilling in from the corridor, wondering if, perhaps, Alex was right after all.

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"So. Grissom's going home today".

Sara barely glanced up as Nick stared at her across the breakroom, intent on filling in the rest of her evaluation report. "Yeah. I've heard".

The Texan observed her silently, turning his coffee mug idly in his fingers. His back brushed the counter, and his eyes drifted out into the lab corridor, where employees moved by swiftly. It was almost as if they had no memory of what had happened two days ago. Everything had returned to its regular pace.

As he took in Sara again, hunched over the table, intently focused on her work, he wasn't sure if that was a good thing.

No one was really sure exactly what had happened in that room, until the gunshots erupted. As far as he knew, Grissom had said little, and Sara was even less forthcoming on the subject. She had only gone home long enough for a change of clothes and a shower, and he doubted she had eaten anything of substance besides the litres of coffee she had consumed religiously in the last forty-eight hours.

She was like his sister, and he knew he had abandoned her the last year or so, with the promotion debacle, and then the split in the shifts. He knew she had a strong friendship with Greg, but the easy camaraderie between the two of them had practically dissipated and he mourned its loss.

He doubted that she would appreciate his prompting. But he had to show his concern somehow, and if this was the way he did it, then that was fine with him.

"Are you going to go see him?"

Sara's head lifted at the bluntness of his statement, and he congratulated himself on not wavering under her murderous glare.

"Is that any of your business?"

Nick rolled his eyes at her stubbornness. Sometimes he wondered if she thought the entire lab was blind. "Sara, you've been worried about him for two days straight, and you haven't slept in all that time, either. He'll be nearly home by now. I'm sure he's wanted to see if you're okay, too".

"Well, I'm sure Catherine told him that I'm fine".

Nick scowled, striding over and sliding into a chair opposite her. He brusquely extracted the files from in front of her, forcing her to meet his gaze as he slid them out of her reach across the table.

"Nick, I don't have time for this", she snapped, dropping her pen on the table.

"Apparently, you don't have time for a lot of things", he retorted, folding his hands calmly on the table. "What's up with you, Sara?"

"Nothing", she said irritably, reaching for the files.

He pulled them further away and she shot him a venomous look.

"Forget it", he said. "Not until you tell me why you're not going to see Grissom".

"Because I don't _WANT_ to!" she yelled unexpectedly.

Nick held her gaze, remaining effortlessly patient in the face of her sudden outburst. "Now why do I think that's not true?"

Sara closed her eyes. "Look, just _leave_ it, okay? He doesn't want to see me and I'm doing both of us a favour by staying away".

Nick stared at her. "Sara, he wants to see you", he said quietly, surprised she would think otherwise. "He asked about you. Catherine told me".

"Yeah, right", she muttered, looking away.

"I'm not kidding around", he insisted. "Look, I don't know what went down in his office that day, but I know he got shot trying to protect you. We all know you care about him. I don't know what's been going on the last few days, with this Townsend case and all, but I'm guessing it has something to do with that. I know he can be pretty unreadable at times, but you can't doubt he cares about you too".

Sara swallowed, looking down. "There are a lot of things you don't understand".

He shrugged. "Okay, so? In the end, what does it all matter? You care, he cares, that's all there needs to be, right? The least you can do is go and talk to the guy, let him know he did the right thing."

She studied something on the table, but he saw something subtle change in her face, and knew he had succeeded.

"I'll let Warrick know you took off early", he said gently, closing the files for her with a swift finality. "I don't think he's gonna mind since he's been trying to get you to do that in the last two days".

A weak smile tugged at her features. "Thanks, Nicky. Really".

He shrugged. "Yeah, well. I figured it was about time one of us said something".

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Catherine was surprisingly domestic when she wanted to be, and she went about anxiously cleaning his living room for a while before Grissom told her to stop.

His wound wasn't severe enough to require a wheelchair, and he had steadfastly refused the hindrance of crutches. He had minor difficulty walking, but with Catherine's assistance he got from her car to his townhouse with little drama.

He was actually relieved to be back in the anonymity of his own home, and inwardly pleaded for Catherine to leave. He was settled on his sofa, several forensic journals and the TV remote scattered strategically nearby. He wasn't one who relished being idle, and Catherine had brought over several case files for him to have a look at if the mood persisted.

He appreciated her thoughtfulness, and the fact that she knew him well enough to think of such a thing.

"Okay", she said, brushing her hands on her jeans. Her pager had gone off several minutes ago, and she was still reluctant to leave. "I should go".

"Catherine, I'm fine", he said tiredly.

She nodded, unconvinced. "I know. Okay. I'm going. I'll call by some time tomorrow".

"That should be fine".

She started towards the door, and opened it fluidly. She stopped dead in the doorway when she realised Sara stood poised on the other side, prepared to ring the doorbell. "Oh! Sara. Hi".

Sara met her gaze uncertainly, glancing at Grissom hesitantly over her shoulder. "Hi".

Catherine awkwardly cleared her throat, lifting her handbag over her shoulder. "Well, I was just leaving", she announced quickly, brain ticking over as she stared between them again. "Bye, Gil".

"Goodbye, Catherine", he said half-heartedly, eyes already focused intently on Sara as she entered the room.

Catherine closed the door loudly behind her, effectively blocking Sara's last route of escape. The door boomed significantly in the sudden silence of the room, and Sara stopped awkwardly beside his breakfast bar, wringing her hands nervously in front of her.

"Hey, Grissom. Um, how are you?"

"Fine", he answered, remaining seated, despite knowing he would prefer to stand.

She nodded, looking down. "I'm glad. That you're okay, I mean. I'm sorry, I um, didn't come and see you earlier".

"It's okay", he said evenly. "I understand there was a lot of work to do in my absence". It was difficult to keep the bitterness out of his tone, and Sara's eyes slid up, obviously detecting it.

Sara swallowed. "Grissom, I want you to understand… why I was avoiding you. What you did…" Her eyes crinkled as she winced, struggling to come up with adequate words to describe the way she was feeling. All eloquence eluded her when she was around Grissom, and she usually started to babble.

She decided to be upfront. "You could have died trying to protect me. You were shot because of me".

Grissom frowned, and he felt his side protest as he rose abruptly to his feet. He ignored the pain, focused intently on Sara's features. That was the pain he cared about. "Sara…" He frowned, deeply perplexed by her reaction. How could she think this was her fault? He had never known someone so self-sacrificing as Sara. "You can't blame yourself for this."

She looked down. "I know. I know it's irrational. I know things were a lot better than what they could have been. I just want to apologise…" She sighed. "For making things so complicated between us. For making things turn out this way. Maybe it would be better… if I just…"

He stared at her with unrestrained intensity, slowly moving forward. "Better if you just what?"

Sara hesitated, lower lip trembling as she met finally his probing stare. "If I left Vegas. If I end this once and for all." She laughed humourlessly, feeling hot tears unwillingly prick behind her eyes. She knew this had not been Nick's intention when he gave her his advice, but he could never understand the complexity of her relationship with Grissom. None of them could. "What you said to me was true. Changing things won't make our situation any better. If I leave then this… _thing_ between us, whatever it is, will go away. I won't make things awkward anymore and things at work… will just go back to normal."

He cocked his head, eyeing her carefully, unable to keep Alex's voice out of his head. "Is that what you want?"

She eyed him uncertainly, struggling to blink away her tears. "What?"

"You told me I never care about what you think. I'm asking now. Is that what you want?"

"I… _no_", she choked back a sob. "No, it's not what I want! How can you ask me that now? I'm trying to do what you _want_ here. I'm trying to let you off the hook".

He frowned deeply, coming to a halt in front of her. His warmth radiated over her, tormenting her with what she could never have. Promising security that just wasn't there.

"Do you remember the night I left San Francisco?" he asked, suddenly serious.

Sara frowned at his shift in conversation, struggling to remain focused on the soft masculine cadence of his voice. "Yes. Of course".

"Do you remember what happened that night?"

"You… you walked me home", she said softly, confused where he was going. His blue eyes were fixed on her intently, and showed such unusual warmth and affection she was taken aback.

"You invited me in", he said quietly. "And I said no. And I walked away".

She nodded slowly, mutely, feeling a burning deep in her throat.

"Do you have any idea how much I regretted that?" he murmured. "How much I thought about that, years later, and what my life would have been like if I accepted?"

"We were going to have coffee", Sara said stupidly, staring him in the face. She realised he had come closer, and her back was almost flush to the counter, his face hovering over hers. His warm breath brushed her cheek, and she swallowed, almost forgetting about his gun wound.

"You know that's not what would have happened", he said softly.

Sara shivered. "Grissom, I don't know what you want from me."

"I want you to stay… in Vegas", he murmured quietly.

"Why?" she asked desperately.

"Because I want you to", he said simply.

"What about what—?"

"What I said?" he finished, lifting a finger to lightly trace the side of her face.

Sara closed her eyes at the sudden gesture; unconsciously leaning into him, skin tingling under his touch. "Y-yes", she faltered, breath hitching in her throat.

Grissom breathed out a sigh. "Let's just say I've had a lot of time to think about that."

Sara reluctantly opened her eyes to gaze at him, and noticed him wince as he moved against the wound in his side. She blinked, glancing down, unconsciously reaching out and touching his chest through the cotton of his shirt. "Grissom, you should be sitting down. You're still hurt".

"I have to do one thing first".

He propped two fingers under her chin, firmly lifting her face to level with his. He gazed into her eyes, as if for silent clarification, and then lowered his lips to hers, seizing them in an intense, soft kiss, full of adulation and promise.

Sara's hands slid up the front of his shirt, unconsciously clutching the soft fabric in her fingers, and Grissom gently deepened the kiss, conveying all of his unspoken feelings of love and adoration.

Sara broke away first, finding her hand gently lifting to graze his rough cheek. "Griss… I really think you should sit down now".

He smiled lightly, allowing himself to lean against her when he realised the pain was persistent. "That might be a good idea".

She smiled dimly, and helped him to the couch, and he pulled her down beside him, grasping hold of her hand. "I mean it, Sara", he said quietly, closing his eyes as exhaustion overcame him, leaning his head back against the sofa. "I want you here".

"I know", she murmured softly, lightly caressing his arm. She leant against the crook of his neck, soft hair tickling his chin. "And I'll be here when you wake up".

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**FIN**


End file.
